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AS THE WIND BLEW 





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AS THE WIND BLEW 





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AS THE WIND 
BLEW 



POEMS 



BY 

AMELIE RIVES 

(princess troubetzkoy) 

Author of ''The Ghost Garden" "Shadows of Flames, 
"World's End," "The Quick or the Dead," 
"Augustine the Man," etc. 




NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 






Copyright, IQ20, by 
Amelie Troubetzkoy 



All Rights Reserved 



OCT I i 1920 



A597756 



THIS BOOK IS 

DEDICATED 

WITH ABIDING LOVE 

TO 

ADAIR ARCHER 

"Whom the gods lo<ve die young'* 



ADAIR 

00 many things you were, Adair, 
AJ Framed in a spirit golden fair, 
That through your body's wilful grace 
And your enchanting, strange young face, 
Half angel's and half sylvan god's 
And sweet as flowering almond rods, — 
Shone in a myriad changeful hues, 
As when the day spring doth diffuse 
Its whiteness through the mystic heart 
Of the one jewel set apart 
Within my thought to picture you, — 
The opal wrought of fire and dew; 
So many things you were, my dear, 
When you were here, — when you were here,- 
That it is hard to see you clear 
As wholly this, or wholly that, 
Or with an epithet smug and pat 
To fix you in eternity 
As some one thing you'll ever be, — 
You that within your earthly span 
Seemed Ariel sad for Caliban, 
A seraph interested in devils, 
A Galahad who on the revels 
vii 



ADAIR 

Of Harlequin and Magdalen 
Looked with a brother's pitying ken; 
An imp, a saint, a puck } a poet, — 
Aye, — all that knew you well must know it, 
Even a pagan out and out 
In many ways, yet so devout 
In worship of the Christians' Lord, 
So faithful to His Cross adored, 
That of His grace he let you die 
For others, as on Calvary 
Himself gave up His Ghost for men; 
But though again and still again 
I've pondered o'er this mystery 
That comforts those unlike to me, 
I cannot see you dear, indeed, 
Forever harnessed in one Creed, 
When all infinity's to explore! 
I cannot deem that heaven's door 
Like some vast, churchly portal meet 
For none but Christians' guileless feet 
To pass, doth guard as its elect 
Only one multitudinous sect. 
Ah, dearest wild-fire, many-sided/ 
Your heavenly way will be divided 
If you those Mighty Ones would seek 
That through their written words did speak 
Full wisely to you when on earth 
You fared, so curious of re-birth 
viii 



ADAIR 

And Alchemy* s thrice hidden lore, 
And darkling Magic's lurid store, — 
For not within the Christian heaven 
Abide the great, all-glorious Seven 
That your terrestrial hours made bright 
So often: you must journey quite, 
Quite, quite away to distant Stars 
If you would find those Avatars! 



No, it is useless, quick gold boy, 
For me to seek a mournful joy 
In dreaming you as evermore 
A being different from of yore, 
A creature all demure and holy, 
Crowned with amaranth and moly 
And lofty, archangelic air, 
You that were here so debonair! 
I take no joyance in the thought 
That you, whose words came aye unsought, 
In tricksy fountains flashing free 
As from a source of glamourie, 
Should now in fixed Hebraic phrase 
Forever utter words of praise, 
Or when your thought on us is bent, 
Whisper some staid admonishment. 
Rather Til think of you as loosed 
Like lightning on a wind unnoosed, 

ix 



ADAIR 

And jubilant for sheer delight 

Storming the spirit's utmost height: 

I'll see you with some merry star 

Dancing beyond the crystal bar 

Of morning , and then back again 

All wistful for the woes of men. 

I'll dream that in those regions free 

Where now you fare in ecstasy 

Beings there are who love a soul 

Because it is itself and whole, 

Who do not take a pious offense 

Even at your vivid impudence — 

Who call to you: " Heaven is more fair 

Since you have come to it y Adair! " 

For He who made the grasshopper 

As well as mighty Lucifer, 

Who flecked the deep with useless foam 

Apportioning loveliness no home 

Nor any duties dull and sad, — 

Who flung the comets forth and bade 

Those bright-haired vagrants of the sky 

To joy in fruitless errantry; 

Who did ordain the ecstasy 

Of all unchrisomed beasts and birds, 

And all the darling, foolish words 

That little children love to say 

As we to hear, — be sure that play 

He doth delight in as in work 



ADAIR 

Nor looks on heaven as a kirk 
Where laughter is a thing of blame. 

Thrice greatest Seer, blest be thy name! 

Thou who did! st speak that wondrous phrase, 

The Ancient of immemorial Days 

Is everlastingly a Lad! 

Therefore my heart is great and glad 

For you Adair, my various boy. 

Speeding the starry way of joy, — 

Youth unto youth eternal springing, 

Light unto boundless Light up-winging ! 

Dear Star, at morning of your day 
You sang upon an earthly way, 
But now at evening, heaven doth hear 
Your song triumphant mounting clear 
Beyond the ultimate chanting sphere, 
Alone unto the Great Alone; 
Yet also to that mighty throne 
Even songs as weak and faint as these 
I give you dear for memories, 
Do mount, returning in their course 
Unto their all mysterious source, 
Unto that Poet which is God, 
Without whose guidance none hath trod 
The hidden path of poesy, 
For even the humblest songs there be 
By Him were given that men might feel 

xi 



ADAIR 

What intellect could ne'er reveal, 
His quickening essence in the heart — 
And thus, though I may see in part 
But darkly, while to you the Whole 
Shineth ineffable Soul to soul, 
The greater still includes the less, 
And not to you as foolishness 
Do these my words of love appear 
Which now your spirit sweet doth hear 
Or yet my pen hath written them, 
Since love doth never love condemn. 
And though I am blinded by my eyes, 
And deafened by my ears, there lies 
No power in these to dim or close 
The all-perceiving heart that knows 
Beyond the wit, and wisdom pure 
And faultless hath, as maketh sure 
The clay-wrapped seed when toward the light 
It springs unhesitantly right. 
Yes, what my heart to me doth show 
Not eyes, nor ears, nor wit may know, — 
You, you yourself, more you, more whole 
Than when your body veiled your soul, 
Yet in a form even lovelier 
Than seemed your soul when you were here, 
And my heart knoweth well, my dear, 
Heaven is more gay, heaven is more fair 
Since you have won to it, Adair! 
xii 



NOTE 

The author wishes to thank the Editor of the 
Fortnightly Review for permission to reprint 
" Isolation," and Messrs. Harper Brothers for 
permission to reprint " Love's Comings," also the 
" Balkan Songs " which appeared first in " Pan's 
Mountain." These " Balkan Songs " are original 
and not translations as many reviewers thought 
them to be when they appeared. The rest of the 
poems in this volume have never before been pub- 
lished, with the further exception of " Whom the 
Gods Love," which was given away to a war cause 
and is reprinted here with the kind consent of Mr. 
Maxfield Parrish. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Adair v ].j 



RHYMES AND RHYTHMS 

The Wind ^ 

The Stranger , 

The Song of Ior 6 

The Dear Land 3 

To a Wood-Thrush g 

The Screech-Owl IO 

To a Tree-Frog , n 

To a Magnolia Flower I3 

Fireflies !^ 

Moon Madness 16 

To a Widow iy 

The City Blacksmith 18 

The Burning Bush 19 

The Bird of Eilrey 20 

The Gleaming Rose 24 

Love's Comings 26 

Seeker and Source . 28 

Innira 29 

The Part and the Whole . . . . . . .32 

The Sick Country Girl . . 34 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Could I Be God a Little While . . . * -37 

The Pagan in the Christian Heaven .... 38 

Flower of Eros 40 

At the Stranger's Bidding 41 

Isolation 46 

Whom the Gods Love 55 

When Sleep Sets Free 57 

Garde Glamourie 59 



BALKAN SONGS 

The First Lullaby 63 

The Stranger Woman 64 

The Flight 65 

After Love 66 

Storms 68 

THE WONDERFUL CHILD 

The Wonderful Child . . . . , . . .73 

OF BABYLON 

The Priestess of Ishtar 89 

The Sister of Owls 93 

Belanu and Iltani 108 

FANTASIA 

Life 177 

Jewels of Darkness ......... 190 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Magic Tree 194 

The Sky Dancer 199 

Heavens 201 

Box Hedges 211 



AUTUMN AND WINTER 

Autumn Haunting 217 

September Shadows 219 

In Virginia, the Fifth of October 220 

December Evening 223 

Autumn Loneliness 224 

Revelation 225 

January Night ........ f . 226 

Experience 227 

Autumn Longing 228 

Leaves 229 



RHYMES AND RHYTHMS 



THE WIND 

THE wind bloweth as it listeth, 
Joy long, tear long, 
As it listeth the wind bloweth 

All the year long. 
If whence it cometh and whither it goeth 

No man knoweth, 
How may I, a changeling woman, 
Tell why it bloweth ? 

The wind scattereth as it willeth, 

Foul flowers, fair flowers, 
As it willeth the wind scattereth 

All the rare hours: 
If whence man cometh and whither he goeth 

The wind knoweth, 
How may it tell and be comprehended 

Of the seed it soweth? 

The wind bloweth as it listeth, 

And ceaseth never; 
As it listeth the wind bloweth 

Forever and ever. 

3 



THE STRANGER 

THERE came a stranger to my door 
When dusk was falling, 
He spoke no word that I could hear, 
Yet a voice seemed calling. 

His eyes were green as leaves on a tree, 

And his smile came slowly, 
There was that about him rare and chill 

And lovely and unholy. 

He did not enter in my house, 

Though he seemed full weary, 
Only looked at me with a long, long look 

Careless and eerie. 

As he came he went, I know not how, 

But my house is haunted, 
By the words he said not, and the wondering 

O'er what he wanted. 

I'm a wedded woman with children three 

And my man is forbearing, 
Yet I'd rather that stranger gave me a leaf 

Than my man a faring. 
4 



THE STRANGER 

I'd rather that stranger give me one smile 

Of glamourie and peril, 
Than my man should give me a golden gown 

And shoon of beryl. 

And I'm ever away, away in my soul, 

When night is nearing, 
For I love the thing I never had, 

And the thing I'm fearing. 



THE SONG OF IOR 

THIS the old, ever-new song of songs, 
Chanted first in this land by two alone, 
To one tune only could even an angel be singing it. 
By threes it may not be sung even by angels. 

Grief that is past will tighten the heart-strings fitly, 
Then sweetness of sweetness when it is played upon 

them; 
Grief that is present will only rust and slacken them : 
None may draw this song from a grieving heart. 

Not grief for himself, not grief for any other, 
Must be in the heart of him who would sing it meetly, 
Nor in her heart who listens must there be sorrow 
Nor any thought at all save of him singing. 

Long and long ago I chose you to be my heaven, 
Long and long since then and I never regretting it. 
God and His angels all are less indeed by far to me, 
Than one of the little flowers were kind to us in 
our loving. 

6 



THE SONG OF IOR 

More to me by far than the circle of Mary's halo 
The soft, red ring of your mouth in the kiss of kisses. 
This is the song that I sang and you singing it back 

to me, 
Long and long ago, when I chose you to be my 

heaven. 



THE DEAR LAND 

I WAS homesick once for a far land, a fair land, 
All the day long my wish turned there ; 
The rose seemed a shadow, the bird call an echo 
Of the fulness of beauty in that far land, that 
fair land. 
All the morning the sun shone terribly, 

Lighting my eyes that they could not see, 
Flame was the noontide, flame the twilight; 

I but a spark in the furious splendour 
Waxed or waned as the hot winds blew. 

Now at nightfall, beloved darkness, 

Tenderest, most passionate of all things holy, 
Breathes on my heart and its secret flower. 

Ah, how wild is the pang of blossoming! 
Soul, my soul, are you fragrance only? 

Darkness answers me, darkness comforts : 
" It is not a far but a near land, a dear land. 

Closer than thought, more intimate than agony, — 
Your home land, your own land, the isle of lovely 
loneliness" 



TO A WOOD-THRUSH 

For Landon 

IF drops of rain within the lily bells 
When shaken forth in shimmerings crystalline, 
Could sound as sweetly as the lily smells, 
I'd liken unto them your notes divine. 

If golden, quivering sunlit skeins that glance 
Reflected upward o'er the swan's white breast, 

Could chime as silverly as light they dance, 

I'd say: "So calls the Wood-thrush near his 
nest." 

If each fair, lovely, lonely little star, 
As delicate and fine a song could sing 

As its own beauty looked on from afar, 

I'd think 'twas you that made the heavens to ring. 

And if some wistful sprite from elfland fled 

While watching at the gate of heaven in vain, 

Should from the quill an angel's wing had shed, 
Fashion a little pipe to flute his pain, 

I'd think 'twas you that from the evening's height, 
Rilled forth your spirit's longing and delight. 

9 



THE SCREECH-OWL 

WHY with so piteous a melancholy 
And with so inconsolable a plaint, 
As though your wistful heart were broken wholly, 

Within your bosom quaint, 
Do you, my little gossip of the air, 
Make all the night to ring, 
With your lorn quavering 
As for some ancient, irremediable despair? 

O-o-o! O-o-o-o ! 
Do you not know? 
I, I alone did hear the cry, 
Of Lilith in her agony 
When Adam turned from her to Eve 
And so for her forevermore I grieve and grieve! 

O-o-o! Lilith! Poor } poor Lilith! 
That is what the screech-owl trilleth. 



10 



TO A TREE-FROG 

LITTLE enchanted leaf, 
Apart from the tree yet of it, 
The magic of water made you 

That so you love it ; 
The brook gave you a voice, 

Dew drops your eyes, 
Your little watery soul 

From a mist did rise; 
And so you're ever trilling, 
While rain is rilling, 
For sheer delight 
In its wetness bright, — 
And so you're ever crooning 
With muted glee 
While the wind his harp is tuning 
To a higher key, 
For well you know 
When he doth so, 
Full soon he'll strike the chord of power 

That brings a shower, 
And while the rain is rilling 
Again you will be trilling: — 

ii 



TO A TREE-FROG 

" Tree! Tree! Tree! 
Dr-rink Dr-rink! 

Creek! Creek! Creek! 

Br-rim a-br-rink! 
Dr-r-r-ops in millions, 
Billions, tr-r-r-illions! " 

It is ecstasy to be 
A little green frog on a tree 
When rain is rilling, 
When summer showers are shrilling. 



12 



TO A MAGNOLIA FLOWER 

WHITE flower, holy with beauty, 
Grail that the blossoming spirit has filled 
and riven, 
It was twilight-with showers, and one star shining 
When you were given. 

Now morning is here 

And rain still falling, — 
You will fade, immaculate as at first unfolden 

While the last birds are calling. 

One made you for his delight 

And set you apart; 
Only a god and a star 

Have looked on your heart. 



13 



FIREFLIES 

STILL in the dark I lay, 
Still in the spangled darkness, very still, 
And let my spirit have her way. 
On questing she was bent, my little soul; 
I held her not from any goal, 
Paying the fine thread out and out until 
She seemed an elfin lantern on a kite, 
Giddily soaring, 
Ardently exploring, 
Up, up, about, about . . . 
I feared her tender flame would quite go out, 
And leave me to unglimmered night. 

11 Return! " I cried, " Return, O curious mite! 
Shine on familiar things, 
And like the mud-wasp, winged too but wise, 
Content you with your house of clay. 

Forego your wings, 
They will but carry you to sunless skies, 
And spatial silences more dread 
Than any heaven-quake hurling down the stars. 

Seek not to illumine Death, 
Who like a negro Titan darkly dwells 
In darkness. Come away ! 
14 



FIREFLIES 

Ask not whence blows this breath 

Nor whither it is sped 
When you and I dissever. 

Dream you of soothing chat 

With gods and avatars? 

O glittering gnat ! 
We are sealed within the womb 
Of That which answers not, now, nor perchance for- 
ever! 

Return unto my breast 

And let us rest." 

Sleep quenched us both, but suddenly I was woken, 
As though a stinging insect voice had spoken. 

" See ! See ! " it sang. " Your sleep is vain I 
There is your tricksy soul soaring again! " 

Firefly! darling of the night, 
Little, lovely wandering light, 

Why from freedom have you come 

To the prison of my room? 
By what tiny destiny, 
Cruel as a larger fate, 
Were you driven from your mate 

In a sparkling ecstasy? 
Now your fitful lamp goes reeling 
All along my starless ceiling, 
You must wonder where you've flown, 
That your heaven has turned to stone ! 

15 



MOON MADNESS 

THE moon came down to my bed, 
" I am Lady Selene," she said. 
" If I lie by your side 
And be your bride, 
The dawn will find you dead." 

But I kissed her sweet, cold breast, 
And answered: " I'd rather rest 

In your arms one night 

Than take delight 
For aeons with the blest ! " 

And now forever alone, 

On the wandering winds I moan, 

While clear of stain, 

In chill disdain, 
Selene keeps her throne. 



16 



TO A WIDOW 

WITH hands discreet and slow 
Richly dress your little woe 
While day is nigh ; 
Veil your burning hair with black, 
Weight all your pretty back 
With weeds that cry " alack! " 
To every passer by. 
Make of it day long a becoming show, 
Yet he who caused it well doth know 
How in dreaming every night, 
Your spirit, like a rainbow dight, 
Doth dance down sorrow, 
With the lewd Harlequin To-morrow. 



I? 



THE CITY BLACKSMITH 

MACHINES! Machines! Machines! Ma- 
chines ! 
Of every metal, — by every means, — 
Bigger than Behemoth, smaller than birds, 
In winging swarms, in bellowing herds, 
Some for labour and some for play, 
Man is making machines alway. 
Yet here in the steel-ribbed heart of the city 
Iron is singing its ancient ditty, 
With naught but the blacksmith's mighty arm 
And anvil stout to work the charm. 

"Ha! ha! ha!" it sings to me, 
" No machine will there ever he 
Can nail a shoe to a horse's hoof! 

Ho! ho! ho! And here's the proof; 
No machine that ever ran 
Can shoe a horse but the hands of man! 
And this one thing all men shall see 
Till men and horses cease to be. 
You may tell it out where'er you wander, 
For thus were Pharaoh's horses shod, 

And thus the horses of Alexander; 
And gruf Hephastos, blacksmith god f 
In the various, delirious days of old, 
Thus shod Apollo's steeds with gold! " 

18 



THE BURNING BUSH 

WINTER has strewn its every twig 
With frozen ashes, 
Yet the bush is afire with scarlet wings, 

It glows, it flashes : 
Take off your shoes ! Take off your shoes ! 

This ground is holy, 
For the great I AM in the red-birds' breasts 
Is burning lowly. 



19 



THE BIRD OF EILREY 

LONG and long ago, 
On a night of fear, 
When something went to and fro, 
That I felt but could not hear, — 
When the nursery fire had dwyned, 
My old nurse whispered it 
To her gossip the chimney wind; 

" Of doubt I've no' a bit — 
('Tis the weird of Eilrey, — ) 
That he ha' surely heard, 
The fearsome eldritch bird; 
That he ha' heard the call 
Of the Bird of Eilrey . . . 

God save us all ! God save us all ! 

My father died that night, 

But 'twas many a day, 
And the garden brimming with light, 

Ere I found the heart to say: 
" Mother, what manner of thing 

Is the bird they name our weird; — 
That fares on ghostly wing: 

Is it truly to be feared, — 
20 



THE BIRD OF EILREY 

The Bird of Eilrey?" 
Not again until she dies, 
Will she stare with such sad eyes : 

" May you never hear it call, 
Donald of Eilrey! 

For it withers all! It withers all! " 

" But tell me, mother dear, 

If I hear it cry, 
Will it mean that death is near, 

Or only some witchery? " 
Then she caught me to her heart, 
And her gaze groped for my soul : 

" If we should be apart 

When you hear that thing of dole 
Little son of Eilrey, 
Pray as none ever prayed, 
That you may be undismayed, 

That you may not heed the call 
Of the Bird of Eilrey. 

For it poisons all! It poisons all! " 

My mother went the way 

My father had taken, 
And I had no heart for play 

In that lovely place and forsaken. 
But after long years, to me 

Came love with a cup of glass, 
21 



THE BIRD OF EILREY 

And his smile of ecstasy, 

" Drink! And your sorrow will pass, 
My Lord of Eilrey! " 
I drained that cup to the lees: 

Then ! From the darkling trees 
On a sudden I heard the call 

Of the Bird of Eilrey: 
"Ah! Is that all? . . . Is that all?" 

A full life and a long, 

I have lived since then, 
And good I have wrought and wrong, 

Like a hantle of other men; 
And gotten me glory and gold 

And a lusty son to come after, — 
Yet ever as I did hold 

The cup of sorrow or laughter 
The Weird of Eilrey 
Like a chill mist stealing near 
Would quench me, and I would hear 

The soft, derisive call 
Of the Bird of Eilrey: 
"Ah! . . . Is that all? Is that all?" 

And now my day is run, 

And at last I'll know, 
Why men, like shades in the sun, 

Creep warily to and fro. 



22 



THE BIRD OF EILREY 

Whence is this bird all golden 

That perches near my head? 
And this other of iron moulden 

That stalks along my bed? 
Is the Lord of Eilrey 
To die all, all alone 

While two weird fowl make moan? — " 
— Tolls the long, dirling call 

Of the Bird of Eilrey, 

The golden Bird of Eilrey: 
" AMi! Is this all? Is this all? " 

And in a voice of fate, 

Replies its iron mate : 
" Aye! This is all! This is all! " 



23 



THE GLEAMING ROSE 

MY Clelia hath a lovely way, 
Cool as vine leaves after showers, 
From her clear eyes a tranquil ray, 
Doth temper my too fervid hours ; 
Yet such a wanton moth am I, 
'Twere sweeter far in flame to die ! 



Late yestereve I saw a rose 

All gleaming as with Eros' fire : 
" O marvel that so dearly glows, 
O parable of pure desire ! 
You to my Clelia shall reveal 
The eternal longing I conceal." 



But oh, poor me ! When for delight 

Its darling petals I caressed, 
I found the tricksy flame so bright 
Was but a firefly in its breast ! 
Aye, Eros' flower, the sacrosanct, 
Irreverent Comus thus had prankt. 
24 



THE GLEAMING ROSE 

Dear Lady Clelia, of your grace, 

Accept from me before we part 

This rose, the painting of your face, 

The pretty symbol of your heart, 

For light it hath to marvel at, 

But not of fire to warm a gnat ! 



25 



LOVE'S COMINGS 

I 

WHEN I was young, and wanton, wide-eyed 
Life 
Teased me from sleeping, Love himself did come 
Me to console and learn to dream awake. 
With heavenly toys my pillow he bestrewed, 
Gifts of Dame Venus in his babyhood — 
The little mirror that had held her face ; 
A golden shoe that Pegasus had cast, 
One of her dove's bright plumes, an irised edge 
Broke from the shell she lay in at her birth; 
A rose kissed open by immortal lips. 
All night I with the pretty baubles played, 
Then asked his name, not knowing him who he was. 
" I am First Love," quoth he, and straightway fled. 

II 

Youth with First Love was gone and Life asleep, 
But I lay wakeful, lonely even for dreams, 
When one came suddenly, like a serving King, 
And smoothed my pillow. Wonderful his eyes 
As winter waters that enfold a star. 

26 



LOVE'S COMINGS 

No baubles did he bring nor any rose, 

But for a scepter held a branch of thorns 

Thick studded as with rubies — Trembling sore, 

11 Kind Lord," I questioned, " who art thou in 

truth?" 
Then did he bend his scepter to my breast: 
" I am Last Love," he said, " and I remain." 



27 



SEEKER AND SOURCE 

I LOOKED up to God and I said: 
" Art Thou there? I am here." 
I waited in dread. 

God said: " I am here." 

I answered Him: " Thus spake the word: 

Thou art I ... I am Thou! 
Is this true, then, O Lord? " 

God said: " I am Thou." 

Then doubt shook my soul for a span, 

And I cried, " When all's answered and done, 

Art Thou God, but the echo of man ? " 
God said: " We are one." 



28 



INNIRA 

I THOUGHT I'd bear a pithy boy, 
To make my man more proud of me 
Or else, at least a sonsy lass, 

To help me in my housewifery. 
But oh ! they laid upon my breast 

A little star with flamy hair, 
A little comet of a babe, 

All fiery tressed and silver fair, 
A thing so elfin bright and wanton, 

As neither life nor death will daunton. 



That night in dreams I heard a voice, 

(No voice of day was ever clearer) , 
Full sweet and shrill it sang to me : 

" Woman ! You'll call her name Innira ! " 
My neighbors all, they thought me daft, 

My man was tolerant but merry, 
" Innira next to Shaw? " laughed he, 

" A diamond strung beside a cherry! " 
But still he let me have my way, 

And she's " Innira " to this day. 
29 



INNIRA 

Come closer, 'tis too hard to bear 

A grievous secret all alone, — 
Though twenty mothers could not love 

Their twenty bairns as I this one, 
Terribly sure I am of this, — 

She is a thing of faerie. 
And oh ! my heart is filled with fire, 

To think how she may flit from me, 
Some evening all so silently 

As flits a blossom from a tree. 

For though she is an only child 

And other bairnies dwell not near, 
Playmates she hath for her delight, 

Playmates I cannot see or hear: 
And she will kiss the empty air, 

Or gather it in loving arms, 
Murmuring lowly or with laughter, 

Lovely names like elfin charms, — ■ 
Illida, Ellora, Zelis, 

Marivore and Chrysadelis. 

Yet there is worse that I must tell. 

— Would you have thought a lovely thing 
A thing of horror e'er could be ? 

Well may you stare with marvelling ! 
'Twas yestereve, — we walked alone, 

My little starry lass and I; 

30 



INNIRA 

She plucked a white rose from the hedge, 
Then turning with a joyous cry: 

" It is for you, Ellora, dear ! " 

Held it as though to some one near. 

Oh, even now my heart is ice, 

To see within the glass of thought 
That sight so eerisome again ! — 

— She loosed the rose, its stem was caught 
By something in the vacant air, 

And just a child's height from the ground 
That flower did float as though upheld 

By little fingers clasped around, — 
Did keep beside us for a space, 
Then like a white moth fled apace ! 

And now you know why all my joy 

Is dwyning in me hour by hour, 
And why my love is all unease; 

Prayer without faith has little power. 
Alas ! and I have little faith, 

For what availeth it to pray, 
When sure I am in flesh and soul, 

That she from me will fade away, 
Suddenly, all so fair and fey, 
As fades the morning from the day? 



3i 



THE PART AND THE WHOLE 

O LITTLE man, what joy is yours 
When through a wave you fall, 
What yearning stirs your lively flesh, 

To hear the wild bird's call; 
How glad and moved your heart-strings are, 
When twilight quickens with a star ! 



Upon a rushing horse to flee, 
Your dancing blood delights, 

With borrowed wings to fan the clouds, 
And swagger in the heights, 

And somersault through nothingness, 

Brings you delirium, no less. 



Yet, were you not a man but God, 

The wave itself you'd be, 
The wild bird and the evening star, 

The wild steed's ecstasy; 
You, you yourself would be the heights, 
You, the invisible delights. 
32 



THE PART AND THE WHOLE 

Sin and repentance now you know, 
But then you would have known, 

Deific darkness' primal pang 
When from the Great Alone, 

The riving light tore through its breast, 

And Godhead's goodness shone exprest. 



33 



THE SICK COUNTRY GIRL 

A SORROWFUL thing it is and full of pity, 
That one who was born in the still, green 
country-side, 
Should die in the city; 
Should pass to the raucous stridor and grind and 

gride, 
To the vacuous bellowing pride, 
Of the brazen city. 

So calm and sealed I rest upon my bed 

They deem my soul near sped, 
And that my thoughts are duly fixed on God; 

Thus muttering they nod 
And bend one to the other stealthily. 

How droll they seem to me ! 
For while they murmur pious things like these 
My waning thoughts are all of trees, trees, trees . . . 

I see them blown in rivulets 

Of green along the upper blue, 
Or litten all with fiery wings, 

Or laced with star-rays through and through. 
Or still as only trees can keep 
When thunder turns him in his sleep. 
34 



THE SICK COUNTRY GIRL 

I hear them singing with the rain, 
Or with the South wind laughing low, 

Or whispering to the summer night 
The Eden spells of long ago . . . 

Their leafy crowns they wear like kings 

The lordliest of lordly things ! 

Could you but come and lift me, 

On your branches cool, 
They would need no coffin to shift me, 

I would make death a fool ! 

Oh, magic and miracle ! 

What is this wonder? 
Am I in Dunsinane? 

Yonder ! Look yonder ! 
Trees ! Trees ! . . . A forestful. 

Coming to save me ! 
See how their branches all 

Beckon and wave me ! 
In at my window now, 

Up through the floor, 
Rending the walls apart, 

Riving the door, 
Storm the magnificent 

Legions beneficent 
Bannered with leaves. 

35 



THE SICK COUNTRY GIRL 

Lo ! where the smothering roof up-heaves, 

And falls aside in thunder ! 
High, high they lift me toward the windy heaven 

With cradling boughs thrust under. 

Gone is my heavy, heavy grief, 
So light, so light, so light I feel and merry 
As I were changed into a little leaf ! 

A little dancing leaf! 
I hear a pompous voice say far below me, 

. . . " All is over . . ." 
And I am filled with leafy mirth and glee, 

As light I hover; 
O dusty eyes ! O darkened one ! 

All is but just begun ! 

A blade of grass, 
Shadows that pass, 

The linnet and her call, 

Waters that rise or fall, 
Winds magical, 
The fathering and devouring sun, 

Laughter and grief, 
A god, a star, a leaf, 

It is all one, 

As one is all. 

And from man's wearisome heresies 

I am well at ease 
Being one with the trees. 

36 



COULD I BE GOD A LITTLE WHILE 
To Helen 

COULD I be God a little while, 
A new and lovely law I'd make: 
No longer when the time drew near 
For us our homing flight to take 
With Death our much abused good friend, — 

For us to leave our shell of clay 
And wing immeasurably far: — 

Should we grow worn and pale and gray. 

No ! but in beauty we should wax 

Like flowering flames upon a wind, 
Until our burning loveliness 

As with a mystic splendour shined, 
Until all those who knew the law, 

Would murmur : " Surely death is nigh, 
For she has grown so exquisite, 

So exquisite she can but die ! " 



37 



THE PAGAN IN THE CHRISTIAN HEAVEN 

THE purple amaranth in heaven blooms, 
Between the golden paving-stones, 
And all along the sea of crystal glass, 

And round about the Elders' thrones, 
And when before that greatest Throne of all 

They cast their clanging crowns of gold, 
The fadeless blossoms of the amaranth, 
Lightly the heavy rings uphold. 

And on the city's jewelled walls they wave, 

Clad in immortal violet, 
But I who love not cities love not them, 

And in my heart is sore regret 
For that fair, fading, many-petalled rose 

A traveller upon earth did sing: 
Below Mount Bermion it blows and doth adorn 

The, garden of an earthly King. 

Oh, if some dream all unangelical 

The Holy City would but dim, 
From these poor eyes so aching with its glare, — 

Would waft me to the shaggy rim 
Of the dear, darkling, thrice beloved earth, 

38 



THE PAGAN 

Whispering: "Here death is death," 
How would I kiss its fragrant mould for joy, 
And like a lover drink its breath ! 

With what high heart if for a little while 

My glad sweet dreaming should not pass — 
Would I set forth on happy feet that thrilled 

To feel once more the pleasant grass, 
Would I set forth to find that earthly flower, 

The tender, many-petalled rose, 
Which all unlike the deathless amaranth, 

Now sweetly fades, now sweetly blows. 

Yea, its soft petals cool against my eyes, 
Were worth all jewelled pomp of Paradise, 

For I am that King, that most heaven-weary one 
Whose garden lay below Mount Bermion. 



39 



o 



FLOWER OF EROS 

H, Love is full of high disdains, 
And Passion sharp with bitter pains : 



Love is a rose that holds a bee, 

Which stings and dies; but what care we? 
The rose remains ! 



40 



AT THE STRANGER'S BIDDING 

IN a dream there came to me 
As to Caedmon of old, 
A Stranger, and " Sing! " said he, 
"Sing!" Be bold!" 

And even as Caedmon did 

I answered him, " Nay, my lord, 

I have nothing to sing in truth, 
No voice, no word." 

"Aye, but you have," smiled he; 

And I answered him, " I am fain, 
But what must I sing? " He said, 

" Sing the rain ! " 

The rain I sing, — the summer rain 
Netting in its crystal skein 
Field and forest, lawn and hill, 
The wild rain that is never still, 
The dervish rain that till it dies 
Dances on in ecstasies. 

Sweetest servant ! Loveliest lover ! 
See how it doth kiss and cover 
4i 



AT THE STRANGER'S BIDDING 

All the burning earth with bliss, 
Nor any littlest chance doth miss 
Her tiniest vassals to rejoice 
With offerings suited to their choice, — 
The white magnolia's fragrant cup 
Unto the very brim fills up 
That humming-birds may wash therein; 
The little tree-frogs gurgling din 
Shows how the rain has brought him joy; 
Each grass-blade has a sparkling toy, 
The earth worms from the dark come out, 
And if they could, be sure they'd shout, 
So glad are they until, alas ! 
The robins pluck them from the grass. 
Yet sometimes when too long it stays 
The farmers growl in sour amaze, 
For then, like any stay-too-long, 
It falls to impish pranks and wrong; 
The shocks of wheat it makes to sprout, 
The gravid soil it washes out, 
Undoes hard labour, piles up harder, 
Chases the field-mouse from his larder 
Into the barn where he's a pest; 
Drowns fledgling swallows in the nest, 
And lashes all the brooks so sore 
That like a thousand bulls they roar. 
42 



AT THE STRANGERS BIDDING 

Yet even at its naughtiest 
When ill it's doing with a zest, 
I can but love the shining thing, 
That with a veil all glimmering 
Of magic crystals threaded fair 
On silvery strands of fairies' hair, 
Shuts out all visitors but these, — 
The wilding birds, the scented breeze ; 
Shuts out the world and shuts in me, 
With Leisure sweet and Phantasy ! 

The rain I sing, the summer rain, 
That nets me in its crystal skein ! 

The stranger he nodded once, 
" That was not so bad," said he, 

" But now sing another song." 
" What shall it be?" 

Smiling, he looked me o'er, 
" Well done is only begun; 

You have sung the rain," he said, 
" Now sing the sun ! " 

How shall I sing thee, Mighty One? — 
As Shamash god of Babylon, 
Or Persian Mithra, he whose rays 
Upon the Christian Pyx now blaze ; 

43 



AT THE STRANGER'S BIDDING 

Or shining Vishnu, India's Lord, 
Armed with the lotus and the sword; 
Or gold Apollo, Pride of Greece, 
Whose locks are like a flaming fleece; 
Or that more grim, mysterious one, 
Osiris, Egypt's burning Son? 
These are too human, Mighty One! 
Not theirs thy dread, impartial Might, 
Begetter and Destroyer bright, — 
Thou who wilt aid a dragon-fly 
His tender, new-found wings to dry, 
And in the self-same tick of time, 
With bland indifference sublime, 
Wilt smite a hapless man to death! — 
Thou who dost quicken April's breath, 
And upward draw the trusting corn 
In green delight of being re-born, 
From out the darksome earth, and then 
Each blade wilt perfect or wilt burn, 
With imperturbable unconcern 
For good or ill as both are done 
By thine imperial power, O Sun! 



It were amiss to liken thee 
To any pagan gods that be 
Of love and hate and joy and fear 
Compacted, — thou that all the year 
44 



AT THE STRANGER'S BIDDING 

Dost deeds of love yet loveless art, 
Dost deeds of hate, though far apart 
From hatred throbs thine awful heart. 

Implacable and magnificent, 
All ruthless yet beneficent, 
One flung thee into space as sign 
Of godhead's attribute most divine 
That little man might learn to kneel 
Not to the force thou dost reveal, 
But to that holier part of thee, — 
Inviolable Mystery ! 

All love were the Stranger's eyes, 
And in Love's own voice spake he ; 

" I bade you sing the Sun, 
You have sung of ME ! " 

Whereon, as men say, I awoke ; 

But I know beyond all shaking, 
That wakefulness is a sleep, 

And sleep a waking. 



45 



ISOLATION 

DARK Magian, thou didst set me in this isle 
Of my sole self, and with thine implacable 

wand 
Draw round about the unnavigable deep 
Of silence, where above no sea-birds sweep, 
Nor any sail gleams, but for mile on mile 
The fierce winds of desire 
Hungrier than fire 
Ravin, and sometimes far beyond 
All reach of their violent pinions or my prayer 

A god doth walk the waters as in sleep. 
" Learn ! " thou didst say, and left me, yet nowhere 
Though eager to explore, 
I have searched mine islapd o'er, 
Climbed quickening to the heights, and in the caves 
Shuddering have hid me, — nowhere have I 
found 
The task writ forth — only the silent waves 
With silence answer me, 
Inexorably, 
And voices without sound, 
Shake out my folded dreams like banners borne 
to war. 

4 6 



ISOLATION 

Yet not entirely desolate do I dwell, 
Ringed by the noiseless swell 

Of that deep-bosomed vast that cradles Death; 
The seasons meetly drest 
Each in her wild-wood best 
Do visit me 
With punctual charity. 
And all mine island glows, 
With flowers or snows, 
As to them seemeth well. 

Spring with her blossomy breath, 
Unseals mine eyelids from their iced tears. 

" Wake ! Come with me," she saith ; 
11 Thou art not yet the plaything of the years, 
My playmate be 
And I will comfort thee." 
Upon her bosom sweet with violets Love's head hath 

prest, 
I stay me and so rest 

A little while, then rise and follow — follow, 
Swift as its shade the swallow, 
Where'er she beckoneth. 
Wise-foolish, faery games we play together, 
Striving to read the runes o' th' foam. 
Or to track the lightning home 

To this house of golden air. 
Everywhere, 
In every weather, 
Spring and I go mad together ! 

47 



ISOLATION 

Thus for a little while 
With innocentest guile, 

My sweeting lures me from my melancholy; 
Child-angels may not play 
In more devout a way 
Nor with a holier folly. 

Her to remain with me I supplicate 
Alas, too late — 
For at a wing-beat arrogant Summer swoops 
And in her blazing tresses, 

My Ariel May dissolves like a white moth 
By Psyche cast upon Love's altar-flame. 

June wearieth me; 
Such primal, fierce maternity 
Lurks in her sharp caresses; 

So bright she stares almost as she were wroth, 
Her gold look never droops — 

Her breast smells warm of nectarines through her 
gown; 
She hath no shame, 
But suckles her bantling Autumn in the eye o' 
the Sun. 
I will lay me softly down, 
Upon her kirtle's hem, there to repose 

Till Autumn be a goodly wight, well grown 
And in his cap one dark, half-petalled rose, 
Foretelling the wild blossoming of the snows. 

48 



ISOLATION 

Hark ! I am roused by dithyrambic beat 
Of scudding feet, — 

Myriads that rush as one, 
In sonorous monotone, 
Down — down ! 

Bright from the vats they come, 
Purpling the hills and waters where they pass; 
No hamadryad lass 
But dances home, 
To tickling of her faun's ear on her cheek. 
And me they mock at as they flitter by; 
" Sullen," they call me, " lovelorn " and " amort," 

Because I will not join their revelry. 
One strikes me with a thyrsus on the lips 
Crying " Evoe Dionyson! " and I cry 
" Evoe Aidon! " and she runs from me. 

How should I love the season of fair fruit 

Whose boughs hang empty ? Once in maiden sport 
I took October by his auburn hair, 
And kissed him lip to lip, saying " Now god! 
Speak!" 
And I was full of glee 
When all his prophecy 
Was fame and fame and more fame unto 
me! 

49 



ISOLATION 

Alas ! among my tree-of-life's dark leaves 
One golden apple have I never found: 

Such fruit as grew thereon 
Dropped all too early bruised to the ground. 
A windfall meet for Stepdame Circumstance. 
The harvest-moon her golden goblet dips 
Into the evening's wine — oh, not for me ! 
Who brings no sheaves 
Only this broken lute. 
Reaper and gleaner both have homeward gone; 

I too must go, who have not any home, 
Whose hands are empty and whose garners bare. 

Come, holy Winter, and allay the smart 
Of earth's perfervid heart; 

Seal up her ardours in immaculate trance, 
Give benison and rest 
Unto that dark and ever troubled breast: 
Redeemer sweet, who in one quiet night, 
As any saved soul can make her white, 
Come ! and me too befriend. 

My vesper orisons beneath the dome 
Of thy Cathedral forest will I hold, 
Where choiring winds their sad recessional 
By Autumn's bier intone. 
— With wild-weeds overblown, 
His faded pall, how sorrowfully strown! 
Yet Summer's cramoisie were all too bold 

50 



ISOLATION 

In exaltation of things temporal 

For this lorn ritual. 
Fairer the wan flowers in thy cloistered closes 
Than any woodland glome 
Flushed with the May. 
So might heaven blossom when the children's angels 
Bear them away 

From tears, by Mary's side forevermore to 
stay. 
And when for me tears also have an end, 
May thy white petals only cover me, 
Who was outworn with roses; 
Thine icy posies 
Death will adorn who'll then my lover be. 

Lo, where thine Acolyte, 
The young, pale night, 
In chasuble of stars 

Doth swing the frosted censer of the moon 
Across the darkling bars 

Of Day's confessional, 
Shrive me, O High-priest, that hast care of men, 
For if since sunrise I have little wrought, 

I have wrought lovingly, and much destroyed 
Unmeet for offering. Absolve me, then, 
For I would listen to the pure evangels 
Of Silence and of sleep with tranquil soul, 
I must be wending soon. 

5i 



ISOLATION 

Great-hearted Death will bring my pain to nought. 
I who with Life's too brackish sweet was cloyed, 
Will from that beechen bowl 
Drink and be whole. 

I have woven my Winter house, 
All of red-heart cedar boughs. 
I have named it " Fortitude " 
In a clear and solemn mood. 

Out of Memory's drift-wood fragrant 
Sweet as myrrh, I've built my fire. 
All the wild winds of Desire 
Fierce and vagrant, 
May not pass the homely portal 
Shelter of one sprite immortal. 
Yet how with clangorous wings, 
And wassaiiler's mutterings 
The very lintel shakes : " O lonely fool, 
Wilt be companioned by a broken lute 
When Kings would house with thee? 
Be learned — Confess our rule — 
I am Lord Lust-of-Power who bid thee ope, 
Art thou still mute? 
My brother next to me 
Is Lust-of-Gold. No mightier can there be 
Save only our great sister Lust-of-Life 
And her twin brother Strife. 
Hast thou slain Hope, 

52 



ISOLATION 

And art about her burying within, 
That thou don't fear to let us enter? Fool! " 
I listen unperturbed. My little door 

Whose latch I kissed when I did fasten it 
Is mightier than all their mighty brood. 

More strong than sin, 
Being seasoned with fortitude. 

Yet who is this that creeps along the floor, 
Pale as a stricken child, 
With great eyes wild, 

And torn wings all unfit 
For any flight? 
" Thou piteous, poor wight, 
Come warm thee by my fire and in my breast; 
— Take food and rest. 

For thou art here by holy mystery. 
Tell me thy name." Then did he answer me, 
u I am Desire for dear Humanity." 

Whereafter being sweetly comforted, 

And cherished on my all of wine and bread, 

Upon my heart, 
He leaned his wistful head, 
And with my broken lute such music made 
As only he hath art 
To waken, who with Seraphim apart 

Did kneel and sing when on the bitter Rood, 
Man's mightiest Lover hung in lowlihood. 
53 



ISOLATION 

And I was half afraid, 

So terrible the beauty of his eyes, 

As they were lightenings from a heart on fire 
So bright as blood his passionate melodies. 
So pealed the whole world's anguish in his vioce. 
Yet to all airs these only words were set: 
" I am Desire for dear Humanity." 

Dark Magian, who didst leave me in this isle 
Of my sole self, nor gavest me any choice, 
Nor clearly written scroll wherein to read, 
Though sore my need, — 
Spare me the terror of thy ruthless smile, 
Be pitiful, lest somewise I forget 

The only thing I have learned to offer thee, 
Master of Mystery ! 
It is the triumphing music of desire 
For dear Humanity. 
Ah, if grown merciful thou wouldst unbind 
And set me free, 

If thy grim rod might blossom with the May 
And through the deep of silence cleave a way, 
And I go forth with singing to my kind ! 



54 



WHOM THE GODS LOVE 

(1917) 

The Flower of England has perished in this War 



SHALL we then downcast fare with mournful 
eyes, 
Wear veils of Cyprus, swathe ourselves in black, 
Because those high-hearted Venturers came not 
back 
To homely solace, from their great emprise? 
Shall we, made small by sorrow, send regret 
To dog their radiant course, who now are sped 
On errands of immortality and fled 
Beyond our finitude of toil and fret? 

Shall we not rather, knowing them so far 

From all that racks us, — safe from grief and 

Time's 
Intolerable familiarities 
With the shuddering flesh and spirit, — like a star 
Of gladness set their memory that sublimes 
All sorrow, in our night of agonies? 



WHOM THE GODS LOVE 

II 

For could they choose, be sure they'd not return! 

Nor love, nor fame could lure them who have 
known 

The ravishment of the spirit gladly blown 
By winds of perilous purpose to the bourne 
Of wild, exultant, ultimate escape 

From beggaring Life, and Death's largesse have 
taken. 

In glory of youth, in splendour of wills unshaken, 
These rode down Time and left Old Age a-gape. 

Think you they would come back, they who have 
wrung 
The honey and gall from life in one great hour? 
Who have been given the freedom of God's City? 
Triumphant be their dirge who were the Flower 
Of mourning England, — shame them not with 
pity; 
Whom the Gods love die young! die young! die 
young ! 



56 



WHEN SLEEP SETS FREE 

BEYOND the coast of sleep where gleams 
The moony hinterland of dreams, 
I, sick and sore with being I, 
Escaped from earthly entity; 
Naked of conscience as an elf, 
Cast off the trappings of the self, — 
Cast love aside, and hope and fear, 
And all the doting flesh held dear, 
Became an atom dancing free 
Through cosmoramic fantasy, 
Yet knew my body waited there 
Upon its bed as in a lair 
A dozing lion waits its prey; 
Knew that my spirit must obey 
When sleeping flesh would live again 
By spirit's intermingling pain, 
And thought how death is lovelier far 
Than life in any loveliest star, 
Where youth endures a trillion years, 
And love is loosed from all its fears, — 
Since prisoning forms would still impress 
The heritors of the limitless : — 
57 



WHEN SLEEP SETS FREE 

Thought how, if sleep can thus set free 
From thralling heliolatry 
A waif of earth, and spatial night 
Render more exquisite than light, 
Then surely, of all hopes that are 
Death is the glorious Avatar ! 



58 



GARDE GLAMOURIE 

MERLIN wrought it of dream and faerie, 
And wafted it by the spell of melody 
To the lost, lorn, lovely Isle of Gramarye. 

You may not win your way to it by asking, 
You may not win your way to it by willing, 
Nor may you come on it by any pleading. 

Its moony towers pierce immemorial darkness; 
Far, far below its crags of glass and jasper, 
Winds a river of stars all wanly shining. 

Blue air-flowers float above its shadowy doorway, 
And flowers of quickgold tremble on its turrets, 
Within a sealed chamber Joy lies sleeping. 

Only her dreams come forth, shy and beautiful, 
Softly, delicately bewildered and bewildering, 
To wander by enchantment through the Castle. 

A man would give all bright, fierce, fleshly pleasures, 
If to Garde Glamourie he might be winning, 
For one wild, worshipful hour of ghostly joyance. 

59 



GARDE GLAMOURIE 

You may not win your way to it by weeping, 
You may not win your way to it by working, 
Nor may you enter in by gold and silver. 

He only that was given the crystal cithern 

Strung with the hair of Israfel and Azrael, 

May sound the magic chord that wafts him thither. 

For Merlin wrought it of dream and faerie, 
And wafted it by the spell of melody, 
To the lost, lorn, lovely Isle of Gramarye. 



60 



BALKAN SONGS 



THE FIRST LULLABY 

TBE Lady Eve was singing to her first-born; 
Adam, her lord, worked in the ripe corn- 
field. 
Happy was she; her song came forth with smiling: 
" Sleep, little Cain, a secret I will tell thee: 
God came in likeness of a snake to Eden Garden." 

Awake, O loving bride! Come forth glad bride- 
groom ! 
Thy spade leans idle and the corn is ready; 
Thy pitcher, girl, stands empty at the fountain. 
Work after love, and loving after working, 
God came in likeness of a snake to Eden Garden. 



63 



THE STRANGER WOMAN 

MY eyes are the eyes of a stranger woman, 
Blue they are as the wings of a blue moth; 
My mother came from a far country. 

For my eyes he loved me ; 

Now have my tears washed away their colour. 

He loves them no more. 

Though I was born in the village, 

In the village I am a stranger. 

I will go back to the country of my mother. 

All the winter I stayed alone painting eggs for 

Easter. 
With my tears stained by my eyes 
I made them a beautiful blue colour; 
With the blood that had left my heart, 
Scarlet I made them. 

With the gold of the ring never to be worn, 
I gilded them in little patterns. 

My heart is empty as the shells I have painted 

In the long, long winter; 

Out of them will come no little life. 

For me there will be no Easter 

When I return to the far country of my mother. 

6 4 



THE FLIGHT 

MY hands are fast in the mane of his young 
stallion, 
The earth flies backward like a spindle unwinding. 
The wind drinks my breath, 
But the breath of my lover is on my neck. 
His hand is on the lock of my heart. 
Close he holds me and safe, 
As the earth flies backward like a spindle unwinding. 

Now if Death should drink my breath, like the wind, 
Glad would I be. 

For then would I never feel the hand of my lover 
Fall from the lock of my heart. 

My hands are fast in the mane of his young stallion, 
The earth flies backward like a spindle unwinding. 



65 



AFTER LOVE . . . 

THERE is that in my heart that will not let me 
sleep ; 
There is that beneath my heart that cries without a 

voice. 
I was not alone in the summer; 
In the winter I was all alone. 
The ashes on my hearth are red, but not with fire. 

Many times he kissed me on the eyes, 

And many, many times upon the mouth. 

And he said to me : " Thou art mine." 

And to him I said: " I am thine." 

The ashes on my hearth are red, hut not with fire. 

Then when I had waited many days 

He came to me, and all the bells were ringing. 

He came only to say that he must go. 

" Why must you go? " I asked that fair evil. 

And he answered: " They wait for me at the wed- 

ding." 
Then that beneath my heart cried without a voice, 
And I spake to him as it bade me : 
" Go then, but not until I have given thee a last kiss." 

66 



AFTER LOVE 

And as he lay upon the wolf-skin before my fire, 

I, with my dagger dear, 

Made a new mouth to kiss, above his heart. 

Red, red its lips : I kissed them many times. 

The ashes on my hearth are red, but not with fire. 



6 7 



STORMS 

TT THY are thy long black tresses always dripping, 
W O maiden? 

My hair is wet with my tears and the water that 
drowned my lover. 

In anger they parted. The heavens also were 
wrathful. 

Dark was the lake, but darker their hearts within 
them. 

The lover went to his fishing: the maid to her spin- 
ning. ^ 

Drowned in the storm was he. Her reason went 
with him. 

Now, folks say, she wanders by night to see him. 

Under the waves, hand in hand, all the long night- 
tide 

They fare together (thus say the old folks). 

The fishes go through their hair and against their 
pale faces. 

Cold as that touch are the kisses they give each other. 

(The old folks tell it.) 



68 



STORMS 

Why are thy long black tresses always dripping, O 

maiden? 
My hair is wet with my tears and the water that 

drowned my lover. 



6 9 



THE WONDERFUL CHILD 



THE WONDERFUL CHILD 

I 

OH, that was a quickening sight to see 
In the quiet fields of Galilee, — 
A beautiful lady seated aloft 
In a painted car, and with jewels coifed, — • 
Drawn by asses more white than milk 
In harness of silver and tassels of silk, 
While after her followed another car 
Loaded down to the swingle-bar, 
With chests of ivory, cedar and gold. 

The harvesters gaped as past she rolled, 
With her smile so warm and her eyes so cold, 
And a whisper ran rustling from near and far; — 

" 'Tis the golden harlot of Magdala . . . 
She hath bided with Caesar a year or more, 
Now she would knock at Herod's door, 
For her face is set toward Jerusalem . . . 
May Jah protect the diadem! " 

But the Magdalene kept her faint, fixed smile, 
Though she knew every thought in these hearts of 
guile. 



73 



THE WONDERFUL CHILD 

Now on a sudden came oaths and shouts 
And the crowding forward of curious louts, 
For the oxen that hauled the treasure wain 
Had yawed aside, and split in twain 
Was the yoke that held them obedient. 

The Magdalene down from her chariot leant; 
In the voice that made mammets of men she spoke 

" To him who first will mend me that yoke, 
I'll give both silver and gold," said she. 
But they eyed one another sheepishly, 
For none had the skill or the tools at hand. 

Then a little lad who had ta'en his stand 
x^part from the rest, drew shyly near, 
And lifted his dark eyes still and clear 
To the harlot's face. " If thou 'It trust to me, 
Lady, I'll mend that yoke," said he, 
" For my father he is a carpenter, 
And I make good yokes as ever were." 

But the Magdalene could not answer him, 
So did the bright fields round her swim — 
So did her sins like bats at eve 
Round about her flit and heave. 
The silence in those boyish eyes 
Seemed like as music when it dies 

In dreams of innocence long dead. 
Oh, heavy, heavy felt her head, 
With fumes of lust long vanished. 

Still as in dream, she saw him bend 
74 



THE WONDERFUL CHILD 

The splintered yoke to smooth and mend, 
But when she would have given him gold, 
He smiled and said, " I am paid threefold, 
Dear lady, in that thou art pleased 
And the poor oxen's task is eased, 
For easy now, indeed they'll prove 
This yoke; their burden light to move." 

Then came her heart out at her eyes, 
In a look more terrible than cries: 
" If I had borne a son like thee, 
I had let the sons of others be ! " 
Thus having spoken she hid her face 
From those clear, unendurable eyes of grace. 

The boy gazed on her with soft surmise : 
" Mourn not, lady, — in Paradise 
A holy saint thou wilt surely be; 
The Spirit whispereth it to me." 

But lo ! When love in her shame's despite, 
Made her look again, he had vanished quite. 
Of a gleaner woman, kindly and mild, 
She asked, " Oh, who was that wonderful child? " 

" Wonderful? Nay, I know not that, 
But a dear, douce lad as was ever gat," 
Smiling fondly, the woman saith, 

" 'Twas little Jesus of Nazareth." 



75 



THE WONDERFUL CHILD 

II 

Now it befell, while the yoke was a-mending, 
A master thief to his task was bending: 
Hid by the tail of the treasure cart, 
A brazen lock he had pried apart 
On the chest where the harlot's gems were stored. 
No time had he to filch a hoard, 
But the jewel his hand clutched, that took he, 
And sped for a place of secrecy. 

Flat he lay in the ripened corn, 
Till the train of the Magdalene should be gone, 
And sliding the jewel from his breast, 
Gloated upon it with lustful zest, 
And oaths of marvelling. Well he might! 
For Solomon had not for his delight 
A bauble wrought more cunningly 
With jasper, sapphire, chalcedony, 
Sardius, sardonyx and chrysolyte, 
Rubies, opals, diamonds white, 
Chrysoprase, beryl, topaz and pearls, 
Amethyst, jacinth. . . . The rogue's head whirls, 
Merely to gaze on a thing so rare, 
This bird of gems for a harlot's hair. 

But as he reckoned the joys 'twould buy, 
There spake to him from close anigh, 
A sweet voice full of gentilesse, 

" Good-morrow, friend, and God thee bless." 

76 



THE WONDERFUL CHILD 

The thief's hand to his dagger went, 
But all on a sudden his wrath was spent, 
For through those dark eyes still and clear 
That held him, he felt Jehovah peer. 
And the hair of his flesh began to stir, 
And his blood to chill, and his heart to whirr, 

" What wouldst thou with me ? " he muttered low 
" That beautiful thing that shineth so," 
The lad said smiling, " Of your grace 
I would like to hold it a little space." 
Then marvelling at his own consent, 
The thief laid the priceless ornament 
In those little hands so tender and slim, 
And stood there humbly watching him. 

The boy gazed down with dreamy eyes: 
" Once in a vision of Paradise, 
I saw the Holy City drest 

Like a bride adorned for the bridegroom's breast, 
And her walls with precious stones were laid 
Like unto these I hold," he said. 

" Strange that I should see them now 
In a bauble wrought for a sinner's brow." 

The thief brake out in a sweat of fear, 
And his thought it clamoured grim and clear: 
" Naught is there from this suckling hid, 
He knoweth all things I ever did." 

But e'en as he trembled, the little lad 
Turned with a countenance gay and glad: 

77 



THE WONDERFUL CHILD 

" What if this bird should fly and sing? 
Were not that a marvelous thing? " 

" Poor babe, he's away in his head," thought the 
thief, 
But he smirkled with guile and made belief: — 
" To behold a miracle such as that, 
I'd walk to the top of Ararat ! " 

Then the boy breathed soft for a little time 
On the jewel, chanting a childish rhyme : 
" Pretty bird ! Pretty bird ! Fly away home, 
Your brothers are lonely, your sisters roam! " 

Now till the stars like figs are shed, 
At the ultimate blast of the trumpet dread, 
No man a wonder more wild shall see, 
Or a thing of lovelier glamourie. 
For that bird of gold and jewels made 
Quivered all as though afraid, 
Quivered all, and stirred and quaked 
As though from sleep it had awaked; 
Opened its crest, and eyes of beryl 
Timidly peering for hidden peril; 
Parted its jasper beak in amaze, 
Spread its wings of chrysoprase, 
Then, with a clear, sweet, starry cry, 
Out and up and away did fly. 

The thief he shuddered where he stood, 
As though he hung on the bitter rood, 



78 



THE WONDERFUL CHILD 

Then cast himself the ground along: 

" Be merciful as thou art strong! " 
But the other lifted him up again, 
And quenched his fear, and soothed his pain, 
And kindled hope in his eyes forlore. 

" The lady will have one jewel more, 
And thou one sin the less," smiled he, 
" For the life I lent will vanished be, 
When the bird thou'st stolen is safe in its nest, 
Ere the steward of Magdalene make a quest. 
But I charge thee, tell no man what thou hast seen, 
For my time it is not yet, I ween." 

The thief gazed on him with troubled mien : 
" Art thou a thing of flesh and bones, 
That thou canst quicken precious stones? " 
" Nay, I but do my Father's will," 
The lad saith, gently smiling still. 
" I have flesh and bones as thou hast, — See," 
And he held out his two hands brown and wee, 
For the thief to touch them and be content. 
The poor rogue strived with his grief up-pent : 
" If I'd had a brother like to thee, 
I'd ne'er have ta'en to this knavery! 
But thou comest too late ; I know full well, 
For my many sins I must fare to hell." 

The lad looked on him with ruth and love, 
" Nay, the Spirit whispereth from above, 



79 



THE WONDERFUL CHILD 

And it saith that we shall fare together 
To Paradise, poor thief — and brother ! " 
Then turned the thief with a laugh and a groan, 
When he turned him again he was alone. 
He asked of a waggoner passing slow, 
" Good stranger, dost thou chance to know 
A wondrous lad with eyes of heaven, 
That make thee deem thy sins are shriven? " 
u Aye, verily," the waggoner smiled, 
" 'Twould be Mary and Joseph's darling child, 
No dearer and goodlier e'er drew breath, 
Than little Jesus of Nazareth." 

Ill 

Now it chanced that eve by his father's door, 
Judas was counting his earnings o'er: 
Of iron and bronze coins there were many, 
Of silver pieces he had not any. 
" An I had but silver pieces three, 
Methinks I should be content," saith he. 

Then a pitying voice from a little space 
Apart, spake softly: " God give thee grace, 
Or one day thou wilt have surely 
Of silver pieces, — ten times three." 

Uprose Iscariot to his feet: 
" What imp art thou with voice so sweet 
And words so bitter? " he asked in wrath, 
" Shall a wandering boy that treads in the gath, 



THE WONDERFUL CHILD 

(Aye ! the wine-stains red on thy feet I see !) 
With Judas Iscariot thus make free? 
Begone ! for something, angel or devil, 
Warneth that thou wilt bring me evil ! " 

" Not so, but I'll bring thee heavenly balm, 
When every other shall wish thee harm. 
For a vision I had this night is past, 
And therein I saw thee at the last 
For a Sin of sins to that pit descend, 
Where is wailing and weeping, world without end, 
And lo ! I also descended there 
To bring thee comfort; for stark despair 
I had bound by a withe from the Vine of Love 
Whereo'er broods ever the Mystic Dove; 
And vengeance I'd bound too, and wrath, and fear 
There was only forgiveness left, Judas dear! " 

But Judas raged out where he stood: 
" Shall I do evil that thou mayest do good? 
If thou wert bond-boy unto me, 
I'd sell thee for a groat! " cried he. 
" Suckling prophet of Satan ! Away ! 
Else will I make thee rue this day! " 
And as with hatred he did glare, 
Behold! The child was no more there. 

But he asked none who the boy might be, 
For he thought that a ghostly thing was he. 



THE WONDERFUL CHILD 

IV 

All that night the Magdalene 
Turned and turned her with bitter teen 
On her bed of Damascus silk and amber, 
As though she lay in a prison chamber, 
Upon a pallet of straw, for so 
Did her sharp dreams harry her to and fro. 
And herseemed that bird-of-paradise 
Wrought with jewels and pearls of price, 
She bartered for a box full fair 
Of alabaster pure and rare, 
Filled with spikenard to the brim 
Sweet as the breath of Seraphim. 
And saith she in her troubled sleep, 
" This precious ointment I must keep 
Against the piteous burying 
Of one more great than any King, — 
Of one to whom proud Caesar's power 
Will bend as to the wind a flower." 

And lo ! In her dream, the wondrous child, 
With a crown of thorns on his forehead mild, 
Seemed to whisper: " I am He 
Thou seekest Mary: Follow me." 
Then cried Mary: " Rabboni ! — Yea, 
I will follow thee all the bitter way; 
I will follow thee to my parting breath, 
Sweet King Jesus of Nazareth, — 

82 



THE WONDERFUL CHILD 

And when I have found thee again, dear Lord, 
Thy head I'll anoint with this precious nard, 
But thy feet I'll wash with tears instead, 
And wipe them with the hairs of my headl " 

Then did she hear that sweet Voice say: 
" And I will wash thy sins away." 



That same night, the sorry thief 
Who deemed himself of sinners chief, — 
Who troth had given unto his heart 
That on an honest way he'd start, — 
With his last farthing bought him wine 
And off a mouldy crust did dine. 
But alack ! When he laid him down to rest, 
His empty belly got the best 
Of his prentice soul, and up rose he 
And set again to his roguery. 

Two loaves and a fat fowl roasted whole, 
And a cask of Syrian wine he stole, 
And when he laid him down once more 
Full quickly he began to snore. 
But he never dreamed of the Crosses three 
That would stand one day on Calvary. 

VI 

And the son of Simon dreamed that night 
How he was counting for his delight 

83 



THE WONDERFUL CHILD 

Thirty pieces of silver o'er 

And o'er and o'er; but to gouts of gore 

Ever they turned as the count was done, 

And dripped through his fingers one by one, 

That his bloodied hands aftrayed his soul 

With grisly horror and dread and dole; 

Then back to silver they would turn 

And Judas could but clutch and yearn 

Telling them o'er again, till lo ! 

Once more in drops of blood they'd flow. 

— To rid him of this dream of dread, 
Iscariot got him out of bed, 
And all in haste a rushlight kindled, 

And read until the darkness dwindled, 
How David unto hell did fare, 
And found that God was even there. 
Yet never a single dream had he, 

Of the Garden of Gethsemane. 

VII 

Now little Jesus of Nazareth 
Could not sleep or draw easy breath 
All that night, for the burden sore 
Of woe and pity his fair heart bore 
Because of the sorrows and sins of men, 
And so he rose and went forth again 
Or ever it was the spring of day, 
Unto a secret place to pray. 

8 4 



THE WONDERFUL CHILD 

" Father, forgive my sin," prayed he, 
u For I fear I love men more than Thee, 
Yet if Thou wilt their sins forgive, 
I will gladly die that they may live. 
Accept my flesh and the soul within, 
And let men no more taste of sin: 
Accept my body and blood and breath, 
And let men no more taste of death : 
For while one brother were bound in hell 
I could not rejoice with Thee to dwell; 
And if forever but one be given o'er 
To hell, I can call Thee Father no more." 
The Spirit's Voice his anguish eased: 
u Thou art my Son in whom I am pleased; 
Not I, but man will require this price, 
And man, not I, this sacrifice" 



85 



OF BABYLON 



w 



THE PRIESTESS OF ISHTAR 



r ATCHMAN, what of the night? Watch- 
man! Watchman! 
What of the night? 
Babylon is fallen, is fallen 

That mighty city, 
Great Babylon is fallen ! 

An hundred gates of brass hath Babylon, 
Proud Babylon, 
All as big as lesser cities, 
They are not fallen? 
The brazen gates are fallen! 

With sun and moon her god of gold is crowned, 
Foolish Watchman! 
The golden God of Babylon 

Upholds the heavens; 
Bel hath not fallen? 

Yea, Bel, her god of gold, he too is fallen, 

Fallen, fallen ! 
All the gods of Babylon, 

Or gold, or silver, 
Brass or iron, are fallen! 

8 9 



THE PRIESTESS OF ISHTAR 

Her Seven Magnificent Deities will raise them 

Israelite! 
Bel-Merodach great son of Ea, 

Lord of the Abysm, 
Will set them higher! 

Nay ! For the God of Israel is stronger 
Babylonian ! 
Your gods about your city run 

For the last time, — 
— In molten rivers ! 

Accursed he the God of Israel! 

Accursed be I, 
That with an Israelite have lain, 

I who was priestess 
Of glorious Ishtar! 

I will arise and go to Babylon, 
Dear Babylon, 
I will return again to her } 

My Babylon, 
Though she be falling! 

You speak as one whom Beelzebub hath smitten, 
Heathen woman! 
Her flowers are smoke along the heavens, 

Her breath is fire, 
Her glory ashes ! 

90 



THE PRIESTESS OF ISHTAR 

That were a funeral-pyre a god might envy! 
I am mortal, 
Yet with Babylon I'll burn: 

Let me pass! 
I go to Babylon! 



See you that monstrous, vasty shape, vermilion 

O'er Imgur-Bel? 
'Tis the damned scarlet soul 

Of Babylon, 
The red whore Babylon ! 



Stand back! For I will pass! What better ending 
For one a harlot, 
Born of the harlot Babylon, 

Than there to die, 
With my sweet mother Babylon! 



Guard! Seize her! She hath escaped! The Bab- 
ylonian ! 
Bring torches ! 
No need. The torch of Babylon 

Makes day of night, 
Let her perish with Babylon! 



9i 



THE PRIESTESS OF ISHTAR 

Watchman, what of the night? Watchman! 
Watchman! 
What of the night? 
The burning sorceress Babylon 

To day hath turned it. 
Great Babylon is fallen, 
And burning, burning ! 
Is fallen, is fallen and burning ! 



92 



THE SISTER OF OWLS 
II 

GRIM centuries had sifted out the mighty ruins 
Of Babylon, 
Within the pleasant chambers of her kings and 
queens 
The lion couched, 
Her cunning water ways were choked with reeds and 
rushes, 
Her precious fruits 
Brought thither from far lands, to knotty wildings 
grown 
Bestrewed her ashes, 
And over them her flowers, the rare, the hundred- 
petalled 
Blossoms of magic, 
Unto their simpleness returned, with dock and darnel 

Burgeoned lowly, — 
With wild wheat, sesame and spice that no man gar- 
nered, 
Waved on the tomb 
Of her that had been Babylon, magnificent Babylon, 
Thus fallen, thus fallen. 

93 



THE SISTER OF OWLS 

Where once had soared the temple of Ishtar, Queen 
of Heaven, 
The Moon-God's daughter, 
A Satyr piped, and near him drowsily enfolden 

Within her thought, 
She who had named herself to him The Sister of 
Owls, 
Leaned listless. 
Her shadowy eyes all quenched with dreaming and 
her eyelids 
Stirless above them. 
Drawn by that music wild and sweet, a youngling 
Dragon 
Blue, green and purple 
As were the Babylonian shards o'er which he rippled 

His glassy armour, — 
Crept ever closer, closer, with fierce crest humbly 
folden 
And eyes of agate, 
Meek as a wounded bird's that ask forbearance only 

Of man mysterious : 
The Satyr laughed upon a note that shook to silence 

Through lips unshapen, 
Seeing that fiery Worm all mild and meekly smoothen 

So dove-like gazing, 
But The Sister of Owls nor smiled, nor broke her 
dreaming, 
Uplifted merely 
94 



THE SISTER OF OWLS 

One silver-spangled foot, careless, imperial, 

And let it rest 
Light as a flower of moonlight on the head horrific 

Sleeked with fawning. 
The Satyr gaped on her aghast, his hot blood chill- 
ing, 
His lust all frosted, 
And u What are you ? — And Who ? " he asked her, 
. edging farther. 
" O shaggy Grecian! " 
Gravely she smiled, " There are in Babylonia 
Secret Beings, 
And who they are, or what, is not for idle Satyrs 
To know by asking. 
Yet, do you tell me one thing first, perchance there- 
after 
I may return it 
By telling you some hidden wonders unrevealed 

To little Zeus 
Who was a suckling when my gods were gods and 
older 
Than Time, his father! " 
" What would you know? " The Satyr whispered 
meshed in horror 
Yet half adoring, 
"That pipe of yours?" the woman said, "How 
came you by it? 
Your pipe of ivory? " 
95 



THE SISTER OF OWLS 

The half-man's eyes grew light and strange as opals 

That sicken slowly, 
Then flared with darkling memories of dread and 
terror 
And humanish pity. 
" 'Twas on the night when she against whose craggy 
haunches 
We now are leaning, 
Great Babylon the Evil, fell and flamed in splendour 

To ruin eternal. 
All beasts, both small and great, all woodland gods 
and half-gods 
In haste were fleeing. 
Before that blaze supernal and abhorred whose 
breath alone 
Dried up Euphrates 
Like as the Sun-God drinks a drop of dew, and all 
the heavens 
As brass were molten. 
Even with the rest I fled, nor looked to see forever 

The cooling dawn ; 
With scorching pelt and blood that bubbled not for 
passion 
Madding I raced 
When lo ! A woman toward me running, — toward 
Babylon ! 
She seemed a goddess, 



96 



THE SISTER OF OWLS 

With hair all purple scarlet in that glare outstream- 
ing 
And fire-washed feet. 
On, on she sped, toward Babylon, toward Babylon, 

Toward Babylon ! 
And as she ran she ever cried : ' Sweet mother Bab- 
ylon; 
Forgive my turning ! 
I come to die upon your breast, O mother beloved, 

My Babylon ! ' 
I tried to check her with these hairy arms of iron 

But flame herself, 
She blazed athrough them and went wailing on to 
Babylon. 
Aie ! Aie ! The horror ! 
Or ever she had sped a nestling's flight, the fiery ban- 
ner 
Licked her to ashes, 
She fell, a poor, white moth the gods for cruel 
laughter 
Had struck with lightning." 
Shuddering he paused, yet all in silence wTapt and 
stilly 
The Sister of Owls 
Waited, her cobweb-colored eyes athrough her dusky 
tresses 
Fine as cobwebs 



97 



THE SISTER OF OWLS 

Drowsing upon the burnished, heatwaved plain of 
Babylonia, 
Her nether eyelids 
Updrawn a little as birds' are when they drink in 
rapture 
A long flight ended. 
The Satyr, glancing sidelong, blinked thus to behold 
her 
As though her grayness 
A ghostly dazzlement out-poured from inner radi- 
ance 
Supreme and mystic. 
Then holding forth the little pipe so smooth as ivory 

Beside her laid it: 
" When to these ruins I came again, long, long years 
after, 
I went with trembling, 
To look upon the place where one so wild and lovely 

The gods had smitten. 
Alas ! Of all that marvellous, more than earthly 
beauty, 
Remained only 
This little bone so pitifully bleached and shining. 

In memory of her, 
I wrought this pipe and ever since have played upon 
it." 
The Shadowy Woman 

9 8 



THE SISTER OF OWLS 

Her hand reached forth and lifting up the piteous 
relic 
Gazed on it longly; 
Then at the Satyr looked with eyes of icy burning 

Bland yet awful: 
" Well do I know to whom this toy belonged, — a 
priestess 
Of Mighty Ishtar; 
Think you that Ishtar, — she beside whose glory and 
splendour 
Your Greek Diana 
Would seem a serving maid decked out in cast ap- 
parel, 
Hath not the power 
A worshipper repentant and beloved to rescue, 
Bestowing life 
Immortal and a form imperishable, far fairer 
Than Aphrodite's?" 
The Satyr shyly bold for hidden wrath so hearing 

His gods defamed, 
Leered cunningly from goatish eyes aslant and 
quickened 
With secret malice : 
" Nay," murmured he, all feigned humbleness. " If 
Babylon 
Your Bel could save not, 
How should a woman-god like Ishtar save a mortal 
Fallen with Babylon? " 



THE SISTER OF OWLS 

Then laughed the Sister of Owls, aye, laughed as 
though triumphant 
For secret power, 
That all the Satyr's matted, wiry hair rose bristling, 

And sweat like frost 
Stung him with chillness that his strong teeth clacked 
and clattered 
Yet was he bound 
Unto the rock beside her as by chains of adamant; 

He would have prayed 
To Pan, great Pan, for succour, but those eyes terrific 

Drank all his thought, 
He could but stare on her with spell-bound, charmed 
loathing, 
And yearn for Hellas. 
" Tri-natured, simple thing! " she cried, her laugh- 
ter over, 
" Beast, man and god, 
Doth not the god in you however dimmed by goat- 
hood 
Some truth discern 
While thus you crouch upon the all-sacred sepulcher 

Of Babylon? 
Do you not feel within the womb of death the quick- 
ening? 
Do you not know 
That mighty cities hallowed by the gods primaeval 
Have mighty souls, 
ioo 



THE SISTER OF OWLS 

And that forever and forever and forever 

These souls arise 
Though every stone that bodied forth their pride 
should crumble 
With fire or flood? 
Yea, though great Babylon be fallen she riseth ever 

By night in splendour 
Even as of yore, and they who look with eyes un- 
sealed 
Again behold her, 
The mighty, the magnificent, still mighty though 
fallen! 
They hear again 
The long, gold temple horns of Ishtar smoothly 
blown 
By deep breath'd Nubians. 
While far above, the wild, entranced, all-lovely 
voices 
Of Ishtar's choir 
Hymning the imperial Moon, rill up in crystal foun- 
tains 
To lave her Throne 
With immemorial melodies forgotten of men, — 

May even behold 
Ishtar herself in shining vesture clad and crowned 
with stars 
Of seven colors, 

IOI 



THE SISTER OF OWLS 

As through the hanging gardens by Imgur-Bel en- 
circled 
She fareth softly, 
Musing in bland, immortal leisure of a goddess, 

On things eternal. 
And they shall see the hundred gates of brass roll 
open 
And hear the shouting 
Of stalwart ferry-men these thousand years and over 

Returned to dust, 
Yet making merry in the empurpled night o'erladen 

With flowering spices. 
As though but yestereve on gentle sleep they had 
fallen 
To wake the lustier. 
And Babylon's proud kings and queens, through 
countless ages 
Backward speeding 
Shall throng her empty palaces and make oblation 

In all her temples, 
Where shadows of violet cinnamon float thinly 
wavering 
O'er golden glooms, 
And constellations wrought of magic gems thrice 
holy 
Through veiling incense, 
Glare from the onyx vaultings underlaid with cedar. 
And there shall blaze 
1 02 



THE SISTER OF OWLS 

Within the outer courts three times three thousand 
torches 

Of precious amber 
Mingled with frankincense and rarest gums Arabian 

Upheld by statues 
Of living gold and silver, — young men all, most 
beauteous, 

While through the streets 
A jubilant multitude shall fare with song and danc- 
ing, 

With pipes and timbrels, 
Trumpets and dulcimers and double flutes and cym- 
bals 

Praising Ishtar, 
And Bel and all the lesser gods and glorious Babylon. 

Then shall the gate 
Stupendous and superb of Imgur-Bel, swung inward 

By mighty engines, 
Reveal to them the palace of their Kings deific, 

With portals open, 
That for one swooning puke-beat of delirious joy- 
ance 

They may adore 
The secret loveliness of Babylonian Queens 

From death re-flowering, 
All thirsty for the vain desire and lustful worship 

Of multitudes. 



103 



THE SISTER OF OWLS 

With violet tresses cunningly enwoven through gold 
and silver, 

With broad, still eyelids 
Painted like Persian moths, and breasts of amber 
circled 

By far-famed jewels, — 
In silken webs of purple, emerald, vermilion, 

Azure and orange, — 
Perfumed with musk and tamarisk and coriander, — 

With oil of roses, 
And oil of jessamine and priceless nard of India, — 

Throned on ivory 
Deep carven and embossed with jade and gold of 
Ophir 

And precious crystals 
Bearing the seven all sacred colours of Babylon, — 

Her queens reign nightly : 
And nightly till the golden hour of Bel's awakening, 

Her kings triumphant 
Delicious revels hold with her their delicate city 

Great Queen of Queens, 
That once more crieth : ' I sit a queen and am no 
widow 

And know not sorrow ! ' 
And they who hated her, the prophets of Israel 

Jehovah's bondmen, 
Will cry aloud from out their foolishness and folly, 

' Behold, ye chosen ! 
104 



THE SISTER OF OWLS 

How Babylon hath become the hold of evil spirits, 

And house of devils ! ' 
For fear and dread and trembling shall twist their 
heart-strings 
And smite their Watchmen 
When word shall come to them that Babylon is risen 

Shining, resplendant 
Not with consuming fire but with her ancient glory. 

These things, O Satyr, 
You may bear witness to, for I myself will give you 

That City's freedom, 
Because of this," and as he spoke once more she 
lifted 
The Ivory pipe, 
" Yea, this poor, little bone shall prove the key of 
entrance 
To Babylon 
And from the rising of the Moon you may rejoice 
there 
With free delight, 
Until the shimmering clash of Bel's seven hundred 
cymbals, 
Shrills a warning 
And twice seven hundred trumps of jasper, crystal 
golden, 
Sound the return 
Of Babylon's high god unto his throne aerial 
And hers to sleep." 
105 



THE SISTER OF OWLS 

She ceased with smouldering eyes and eyelids as of 
ashes 
Bent upon him, 
So still, she seemed a shape of silver dim with ages 

Fixed forever, 
But as he shook, up blazed the circled Moon tre- 
mendous 
Of Babylon 
And on a sudden that silver shape flaring effulgent 

Fused with its splendour 
As might a flame drawn backward to the incan- 
descence 
It had sprung from. 
Then breathed the earth beneath him as awaking 

And deep within it, 
Smooth, long-drawn notes through hollow gold up- 
welling 
Blared triumphant. 

Not such a mighty leap hath Pan himself e'er taken 

As took that Satyr 
From off the heaving ruins of Ishtar's fearful temple, 

Nor sped more fleetly 
The stone of Sisyphus adown its echoing mountain 

Than he toward Hellas. 
No backward glance gave he as on he fled distracted, 

Being well aware 



106 



THE SISTER OF OWLS 

In all his crisping flesh of how the sorceress city 

Upreared behind him 
Her monster walls and seven-staged temple towers 
gigantic 
Crowned with idols 
Of aspect terrible and evil powers known only 

To Gods of Asia. 
Far, far before him all the moonlit plain was red- 
' dened 
With glare of torches, 
Far, far there followed him the sound of pipes and 
timbrels 
And festal shouting: 
" Great Babylon is risen again, our Mighty City 
Is risen and shining! " 

Watchman, what of the night? Watchman! 
Watchman! 

What of the night? 
The ghost of mighty Babylon 

With all her devils 
Is risen again despite Jehovah ! 

Is risen and shining, 
Is risen, is risen and shining! 



107 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

I 

BELANU the Poet, son of Mar-irsltim, to the 
Lady Iltani, daughter of the widowed Lady 
Taram-Sagila, by his chief slave Damgula : 

Not direct do I dare speak, 

Not direct do I dare speak 

To the most beautiful Lady in Babylon, 

Not direct to the wondrous Lady Iltani 

Do I, all unworthy, venture to speak. 

These are but the thoughts of my heart 

Upon first beholding her, 

Which I set forth 

That she may look upon them 

Or not look upon them 

As seemeth best to her. 

In the Street of Procession it was, 
Near the gate of Ishtar 
On this seventh morning 
Seven times blessed 
Of the fourth month 
That I first beheld her. 

108 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

Not foreknowing, I lifted up mine eyes 

Not forewarned by a kindly dream, 

I lifted up mine eyes 

Thinking to look on usual things, 

Thinking to behold only 

The sacred Unicorns and Dragons 

That adorn the gate of Ishtar, 

When lo ! the beauty of the Lady Iltani ! 

Like a sword of glorious elmeshu, 

Like a sword wrought from the precious stone 

elmeshu, 
That is brighter and clearer than rock crystal, 
And whose heart is a rainbow, — 
Like a spear cast by Bel-Marduk 
From the armoury of the Sun, 
Her beauty smote my eyes, 
Pierced my heart, 
Severed my heart-strings. 
My heart twanged and ceased 
Like a broken lyre. 
I was as one blind, dead, 
As one cast into the Terrible Cave Aralu 
Where is existence without life. 



O all wonderful life ! Gift of Shamash ! 
Greatest gift of the great Sun-God! 
It was taken from me 

109 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

And given back again, 

But not by Thee, O Shamash ! 

For through my darkness, 

Through my sick darness, 

Shined the smile of Iltani 

Knitting again my severed heart-strings, 

Restoring to me one part of that which she had taken, 

Restoring my life, 

But O Shamash! Bell Ishtar, Princess of Love! 

Keeping in her little hands 

That which alone makes life precious 

My sweet desire ! 

Holding in her soft throttling hands 

As children hold a bird, 

My wild winged desire! 

Against the fierce blue and emerald scales 

Of a dragon of Ishtar, 

Cunningly enamelled 

Upon the wall of her Sacred gate, 

The face of Iltani, 

Crowned by her hair as by a flower of copper, 

Shone wonderful, 

Milder than a moonstone. 

Little moon-fair face, 
Little face of Iltani ! 

no 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

Shall I ever feel you against my heart? 

My heart that is all unlike the moon, 

My heart that you, O tiny thing, 

Yet greater than Shamash, 

Have turned into a blazing sun of love ! 

Far and wide have I journeyed, 

Over many waters, in many lands, 

Yet never have I beheld a sight so lovely 

As the face of the Lady Iltani 

Shining like a moon-jewel, 

Against the blue and emerald armour 

Of Ishtar's dragon. 

II 

Iltani to Sikku, my friend: May Bel and Nabu 
bless my friend and grant her health and joy: I am 
well and my mother also is well. Because it is the 
fourth month there are many flowers in Babylon. 
I went this morning with my mother to the temple 
of Marduk. Many others went also. The litter 
was stopped some time at the gate of Ishtar through 
so many people. A young man looked much at me. 
He had a beautiful beard. It was the colour of 
wild grapes. It was curled tighter than the wool 
of my black Persian lamb. But the curls were like 
rods, not like rings. I smiled to see such a beautiful 
beard. The Lady Ishtar be my witness, I did not 
smile at him, but at his beard. Yet now he has 

in 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

written a poem to me saying that I smiled at him. 
This is wrong. There are also words in the poem 
about love. This is foolish. If he loves me why 
does he not write to my mother and my father's 
brother Nabu-zer-ibini ? I must tell you, dear Sikku, 
that the Arabian powder you sent me by Ikisha has 
made my hair very pretty. It is now like a flower 
of copper. Because of distress I am sending you 
this message. What must I do regarding the poem 
of Belanu, son of Mar-irsitim? Answer quickly by 
all means, Sikku. 

Ill 
Belanu, son of Mar-irsitim, to the Queen Utani: 

O queen Iltani, 

Great queen of queens, 

Queen of the soul of Belanu, 

Live forever ! 
Because of your heart 
Harder than a graver's point of sapphire, 
Because of your sharp-pointed heart 
Which has graven upon mine 
The terrible characters that signify silence, 
I, your servant and lover Belanu, 
Am like to one who has lost his wits, 
Am like to a corpse of Egypt 
Whose brain the pitiless embalmers 

112 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

Have drawn forth with a hook ! 

Iltani, merciless Queen 

Who might so easily have mercy, 

Why did you not send me one little word 

By my slave Damgula, 

My slave more faithful to me than two mothers 

Since my mother died at my birth? 

Was it that you scorned my dear slave-mother 

Damgula? 
Or was it that you scorned my love ? 

1 am dying for love of you, Iltani ! 
I am dying for love of you, 

Yet must I die for love of you 

Rather than ask you in marriage of your lady mother 

Not knowing whether I have found favour in your 

eyes. 
Rather than bargain for you 
With shekels of silver, 
Offering for you like a merchant 
The marriage gift, 

Not knowing whether you will give me in return 
The gift of love. 
Iltani ! Iltani ! 
The demon of fever, 
Dread Ti'u, 
Hath touched me ! 
Mine eyes are clouded, 

ii3 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

I am like one thrown into a brazen furnace seven 
times heated ! 

Iltani ! Iltani ! 

Though you are far away, 

Though the infinity of seven streets divides us, 

Ti'u brings you to me, — 

You, unaware of me, 

Yet you, you Iltani ! 

All the night gone by you were dancing against the 
curtains of my eyes, 

Shining between me and darkness, 

Between me and sleep. 

Not knowing you were there, 

Thus Ti'u mocks mel 

On the lowered curtains of my eyes you shone 

Like the paintings on the wall of the King's love- 
chamber, 

Your eyes glowed dark as sandu stones, 

But they turned the darkness to lapis-lazuli 

All glittering with golden sparks, 

They turned the darkness as it were to magic wine 

Freckled with scales of sunlight, 

And in this wine of magic you swam 

Like a daughter of Bahi the sea-goddess, 

And of Gibil the Fire God, 

Very tiny, 

Tinier than your own foot, 

Than your own hand, 

114 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

Gleaming, glowing 

Like a little fish of fire. 

I drank the wine of darkness, 

I drew you in with it, 

O little fish of fire! 

And you darted into my heart, 

You swam into my heart made liquid by love, 

Turning it to scalding steam. 

Little fire-fish !• little fire-fish ! 

Iltani ! Iltani ! 

The steam of desire is bursting my breast asunder I 

Return to your former shape, 

Send me some word, 

Some token, 

If only a common rose of Babylon, 

One petal of a rose, 

Even a thorn, — 

Or a stalk of sesame; 

Even a blade of grass that you have set your foot on, 

So that it mean 

Iltani looks with favour on Belanu ! 

IV 

Iltani to Sikku my friend: A terrible thing. A 
terrible thing. Baal Belanu has gone mad. The 
Demon Ti'u has entered into him with madness. 
He has sent me another poem calling me Queen and 
fish of fire. What may a man not do who thinks 

115 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

of such a thing as a fish of fire? What may he not 
do to her he calls fire-fish? My knees are loosed 
with fear. Great is my fear, O Sikku. By the life 
of the gods write to me with comfortable words, 
Sikku. In the name of the goddess Irnini send me a 
message of advice quickly. 

Damka my nurse has brought your letter. May 
all the highest Gods and the Igigi also, bless you, 
Sikku. I will perform your advice straightway. I 
will tell the lady Taram Sagila, my mother, of Baal 
Belanu. Since as you write to me, he has so many 
cows and slaves and a fine country seat near Bor- 
sippa, my mother may be moved to help his madness. 
Very wise is my mother in such things. For one who 
lives in a small city like Hish, you have large 
thoughts, Sikku. But in one thought you are mis- 
taken. Baal Belanu might wish to kill me through 
the madness of love, but he means me no harm such 
as you think. For even in his madness he writes of 
making the marriage gift for me. And if you ask 
me why I call him Baal, I wilt say to you that I think 
he should be called Lord! None but a Baal could 
have such a beautiful beard, or write so beautifully, 
when Ti'u is torturing him. Be not afraid for me, 
Sikku, because you are married and I am not. In a 
great city like Babylon, things do not take place in 
the same manner as in a small city like Hish. How 

116 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

could Baal Belanu mean me wrong when I never walk 
abroad save with my mother or with my nurse 
Damka? He does not mean me wrong. Good are 
most of your thoughts, Sikku. I send you thanks 
for them. But I also have good thoughts. This is 
one of my thoughts. I will m«ake a small clay image 
of Ti'u and set it in a little boat. I will fasten a 
long cord to the boat and I will go to the river 
side with Damka and place the boat on the river with 
Ti'u's image in it. Then I will overset the boat and 
drown the image of Ti'u, repeating for Baal Belanu 
the incantation which begins : 

" Away, away, far away! 

Be ashamed Ti'u, be ashamed! 

Sink deep, deep where you cannot rise! 

Out of Belznu's body away, 

Out of his body far away. ,} 

Do you also make an image of Ti'u and do the 
same Sikku, for I would not that any man should 
be mad and call me fish of fire. 

I forgot to say that because of pity I sent by 
Damgula to Baal Belanu a small little rose of Baby- 
lon. I did not gather it for him. It was not a 
fresh rose. I bade Damgula say this message : 
' This rose was gathered by the lady Taram-Sa- 

117 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

gila to place with others on the house-altar before 
the image of Irnini. The lady Iltani allows Dam- 
gula to take it to you only because of pity for your 
fever. May Irnini cause it to cause Ti'u to depart 
from you." I will also tell my mother that I did 
this thing, Sikku, so it will not be necessary for you 
to send me a message of advice about it, either 
against it or for it. Write again quickly, dear 
Sikku. 



V 

Belanu the Happy, to Iltani the Thrice Blessed 

Iltani has sent me a tiny rose, 
Tinier than her little ear 
Which is so small, so small 
That I fear my great love can never, 
Never all be poured into it! 
Iltani has sent me a rose, 
A little, little rose, 

Yet so great has she made it seem to me 
By the magic of her graciousness, 
That it shuts out heaven and earth, 
It shuts out everything to me 
But the face of Iltani, 
The lovely, lovely face of Iltani, 
Which by the magic of her graciousness, 

118 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

She has imprinted on the heart of the rose she sent 
me. 

For the rose that Iltani sent me, 

For the tiny rose greater than heaven and earth 

I will have made a cylinder of crystal, 

Of crystal clear and pure as Iltani's heart, — 

I will have a cylinder of purest, clearest crystal 

Split in twain "and hollowed delicately, 

And between the halves of this crystal 

I will place the rose that Iltani sent; 

I will cause the King's jeweller 

To rivet the halves together again 

With bands of finest gold, 

With bands of gold of Ophir 

Rich as my love for Iltani 

And with studdings of male rubies 

Fiery as my love for Iltani 

And with sparks of elmeshu 

Lasting as my love for Iltani. 

And this crystal, 

Whose heart will be the rose of Iltani, 
I will cause to be made into a seal, 
Into a most precious seal of love 
For sealing the love that I bear unto Iltani; 
Our names shall be mingled upon it, 
Together with the names of Ishtar and Tammuz, 

119 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

Mingled in deep engravure, 

That neither Time nor the jealous Gods, 

Nor Fate, nor Iltani herself 

Can ever efface ! 

Such shall be the chief seal of Belanu 

Which he will wear about his neck forever, 

Even in the dark Cave of Aralu ! 

Ah, small rose, sweet rose, 

Rose of the rose Iltani ! 

When she sent you to Belanu, 

When she sent you to me from the altar of Irnini, 

Did she know, 

Did she remember 

That another name of Irnini is Ishtar? 

Does she know, 

Does she remember 

That Ishtar is the goddess of love? 

You have cast out Ti'u and his fever, darling rose, 

But you cannot cast out the fever of love 

For you come from the altar of Ishtar, 

From the hands of Iltani ! 

What is this you are saying, dearest rose, — 
Rose of Iltani and Ishtar? 
Is it indeed you that are speaking 
In a voice sweet and faint as your fragrance ? 
Verily the rose is speaking! 

120 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

Thus saith the rose: 

" Send a message to Iltani, 

From me, the rose offered to Ishtar, 

Send a message to Iltani 

From Ishtar who told it to me 

As I lay upon her altar, 

Say there is another rose to be offered, 

Another rose to be offered by Iltani 

To Ishtar, 

And this other rose is Iltani herself! " 

Verily I will obey you, rose of Ishtar, 
Rose of Iltani, 

The message shall go straightway 
To that lady, the rose Iltani ! 

VI 

Iltani to Sikku my friend: May Marduk and 
Nabu and Irnini whose other name is Ishtar, all be 
praised. The device of the image of Ti'u and the 
little boat has borne fruit. Baal Belanu is cured of 
his fever. Ti'u has departed out of him. He 
wrote me these things. He also wrote me other 
things. But I do not think they would interest my 
friend Sikku. He thought the rose very small. It 
was indeed a small rose, as I wrote you, Sikku. 
But it found favour with him. This will not be 
interesting news to you. This news will be more 

121 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

interesting. My lady mother was not angered 
against me when I told her of the message of 
Baal Belanu. Neither was my uncle Nabu-zer- 
ibini with whom she consulted. He laughed 
softly at me out of the fatness of his face and 
said: " Belanu son of Mar-irsitim, though a poet, 
has twenty gan of fertile land in his own right, 
many herds and much gold and silver. Belanu has 
also a good eye for seeing. When I was young I 
had such an eye. Let him be invited to this my 
brother's house, O Taram-Sagila, my sister-by- 
marriage." And my mother, who always looks sour 
when she is much pleased, looked very sour and she 
answered : " Since such is your wish, Nabu-zer-ibini 
my brother-by-marriage, do you yourself seek out the 
young man and bring him hither." Thus it was 
settled. So Baal Belanu will cross this threshold. 
May Ishtar and Bel keep his foot from slipping upon 
it. I think this news is interesting Sikku. Send 
me word quickly what you think of it. 

VII 

Belanu the blissfully enchanted, to Iltani, En- 
chantress by the grace of Ishtar: 

Behold how great a miracle, 

How mighty a miracle you have wrought, 

O lady Iltani! — 

122 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

Lady of my heart, 
Enchantress Iltani, 

Enchantress of the heart and mind of Belanu ! 
Behold the miracle; 
Thus it befell; 

Yestereve, at the seventh hour, 
As I was lingering near the gate of Ishtar, 
Gazing with tenderness 
On the blue and emerald dragon 
Against whose enamelled scales 
I had first seen the face of Iltani 
Shining like a moon-jewel 
Beneath the copper blossom of her hair, — 
Accosted me courteously 
An old gentleman 
Exceeding fat, 

A gentleman beyond peradventure, 
And fat beyond imagination, 
His nose, lips and ears 
Were fat, 

His very eyes, moist and smiling, 
Were fat, 

Even his beard had a fat appearance; 
And round about his body 
The overlapping pleats of his garment 
Stood out because of his fatness, 
Like the neck-ruffles of angry game birds. 
I will whisper to you, O enchantress 

123 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

(You who in your wisdom will surely shatter this 

letter), 
That it is not pleasant for a young lover 
To look upon the fatness of an aged man, 
For it brings to mind questionings, 
Painful doubtings, 
As to whether perchance someday, 
Some terrible day, 
His own joyful leanness of youth 
May not become like unto that fatness 
Joy destroying. 

Wherefore, 

(Oh, forgive me beloved!) 
I looked coldly, 
Though with politeness, 
Upon this very fat, 
This unusually fat 
Old gentleman. 
When lo ! the Miracle ! 
He did but pronounce these words, 
And the Miracle ! 
These words : 

" / who address you am Nabu-zer-ihini, 
Uncle of the lady Iltani — " 
And behold the Miracle ! 
In a heart beat, 
In the twinkling of an eye, 

124 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

In the flash of an eyelid of Shamash, 

This corpulent old gentleman 

Became to me as Tammuz, 

The ever young lover of Ishtar! 

Became all beautiful 

As her father Sin, the Moon god, 

When slender from desire, 

A thin crescent of silver 

He holds to his" breast 

That other part of himself, 

The shy moon-bride 

Veiled in dun-color. 

Far have I journeyed, 
Over many waters, in many lands, 
But never have I seen so fair a sight 
(Save the face of Iltani) 
As the appearance of Nabu-zer-ibini 
When he declared himself 
The uncle of Iltani ! 
But lo ! when he spoke again, 
Inviting me to that house, 

That house more desired than the King's palace, 
Inviting me to cross with him that threshold 
More sacred to me than the threshold of a temple, 
That threshold beyond which dwells Iltani, 
In the house of her lady mother 
Who graciously sent word to me 

125 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

By the illustrious, all-charming Nabu-zer-ibini, 

Then verily I could have fallen down before him, 

As before the image of Tammuz, 

And saluted his feet, 

Which now seemed to me almost as beautiful, 

Almost as slender, 

As the feet of Iltani herself! 

Wherefore, beloved Iltani, 

My beloved, 

Beloved beyond all women, 

Beyond all goddesses, 

Prepare to greet me to-morrow 

At the twelfth hour, 

Together with Nabu-zer-ibini 

Your god-like, all-glorious uncle, 

Beneath the holy roof 

Of the house of your sacred mother, 

The lady Taram-Sagila. 

May Marduk the Strong One, 

Ruler of heaven and earth, 

May Ishtar, the Lovely One, 

Ruler of the hearts of all beings, 

Watch over you forever; 

May they fill the hour of my coming with joy for 

you, 
My beloved, 
My beloved! 

126 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

VIII 

Iltani to Sikku, my dear friend: It is the day of 
his coming. But it is only the eleventh hour. 
There is this hour to wait. I am already adorned 
for tlie occasion. My mother has left me to see 
that the cakes of sesame and cinnamon, and the 
clarified honey, and the frothed cream, and the 
wine and conserves of citron are set forth in fit 
order. Damka also has gone to assist her. I feel 
that I must speak to some one. I will speak to you, 

Sikku, my kind friend. I would wish you to put 
your arms about me. I would wish you to put your 
necklace of blue and green stones about my neck. 

1 am sure that you would lend it to me for this oc- 
casion. I would wish you to tell me that I look 
charming. Damka says that I look charming, but 
Damka always speaks thus, no matter what I put 
on. My mother smiled at me kindly, but she is a 
woman of fixed words. She said only what she 
always says when I am dressed: 

" It is well, Iltani. Be careful not to rumple the 
pleats when you seat yourself. It is so difficult to 
smooth out pleats." I will tell you how I am 
dressed, Sikku. Then you can write to me about 
it. I have done my hair on the top close to my 
head, turning out the edges like flower petals. I 
have made it shine with oil of white roses. It 

127 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

smells very sweet. I have taken the longest strands 
and braided them to fall over my shoulders as in 
the image of Ninsun which we admire. It is hard 
at times to be poor and well-born. I wish to-day 
for blue and green stones. It is a wish like being 
hungry and no food. If only you were here, Sikku, 
to lend me your necklace. I have no green stones. 
I have no blue stones, neither turquoise nor sap- 
phire nor even any bits of uknu. I wish much for 
precious stones the colour of the enamelled dragons 
on the gate of Ishtar. I have them not. So this 
is what I have done, Sikku. I went this morning at 
dawn and gathered many buds of Ishtar's flower. 
They are hard and blue like turquoise. I ravelled 
out threads of silk, knotting them together. Upon 
these I strung the blue buds. When I braided my 
long hair I twisted among it these strings. It seems 
to me that they look like turquoise. But I have 
no necklace, Sikku. My mother would not lend 
me her wedding necklace. " When you marry is 
time enough," is what she said. And I have no per- 
fume except for my hair. When I asked her for 
two drops of spikenard from the carnelian box my 
father gave her at my birth, — only two drops, one 
for each breast, she said, " Nay." What do you 
think of that, Sikku? And on such an occasion? 
When I implored, she answered: "Young girls 
should not smell of spikenard. It is only for mar- 

128 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

ried women." Did she jest, or is this true, Sikku? 
Do not forget to answer, and also to tell me why it 
is, if it be so. My dress is of thin Persian linen, 
in little rows of pleats one above the other, but the 
pleats are too fine, like the under side of mushrooms. 
This year in Babylon the women are wearing the 
pleats broader. How is it in Hish? Perhaps in 
small towns like Hish, the fashions do not change so 
often as in Babylon. It is hard to be poor and also 
in the fashion. My dress would set badly if Damka 
pressed the pleats broader. I have on very pretty 
shoes, Sikku. They are made of snake-skin studded 
with silver. My uncle gave them to me on the great 
festival of Marduk. It was also the day of my 
birth. I have put a rose between my breasts, a lit- 
tle rose of Babylon. I have stained my fingers with 
paste of red rose leaves. I wish you were here 
to see me before Baal Belanu comes, Sikku. I 
am sure there is something wrong which no one has 
noticed. You would notice it because you are young, 
and have not forgotten about love, like my mother 
and Damka. There is one thing I wish you to tell 
me. Do not fail by any means to tell me in your 
next letter. It is this. Do husbands come first, 
and love after? or does love come first and 
husbands after? My mother and Damka say 
that husbands come first. I do not wish to be- 
lieve this. But I am ignorant. You are not 

129 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

ignorant, Sikku, — so tell me by the life of the Gods. 
Do not fail to tell me, as you have failed to tell me 
other things. Certain things that you promised on 
your heart to tell me after you were married. You 
have not told them. I grow angry a little with you, 
Sikku, when I think of it. But this you must tell 
me — If you ... I hear voices . . . 



IX 

Belanu-Tammuz to Iltani-Ishtar : 

I have seen my jewel in its pure setting, 

I have seen Iltani in the silver setting 

Of her mother's love, 

Yet fair as was that setting of silver, 

Lovely as Iltani shone within it, 

I long with a mighty longing 

To take forth from it my jewel, 

To reset my jewel beyond price 

In the fiery gold of my love. 

Oh, how beautiful, 
How much sweeter than fine myrrh, 
How beautiful and sweet was Iltani 
In that setting of mild silver ! 
How far more beautiful than precious stones 
Were the blue buds of Ishtar's flower in her hair ! 

130 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

How far above rubies 

Was the rose between her young breasts ! 

Oh, when may I take you for my own, Utani ! 
When will you come to me as my bride? 
When may my fingers be woven in your hair 
Like the strands of Ishtar's flowers; 
When like the rose 
May I sleep between your breasts? 

My heart is too full for much speaking, 

Iltani! Iltani ! 

My heart will sing for you without words, 

When you rest upon it, 

Iltani ! my sole desire ! 

X 

Iltani, to Sikku my dearest friend : Sikku, he has 
come. He has gone. Sikku, he ate and drank, 
though not much. I could neither eat nor drink. 
Tell me, Sikku, when Etiatim, your husband, came to 
see you for the first time, did he eat and drink? Did 
you do so ? I shook under my garments. My teeth 
wished to knock together, but I would not allow 
them to. When he drank the red wine of Eridu, 
his beard glistened. He smiled at my mother, and 
wiped it delicately on the napkin of purple linen 
which she handed him. His mouth was red from 

131 



BELANU AND ILTAN1 

the wine and his teeth were white within it. I did 
not know that men could have beautiful mouths. 
My uncle's mouth is not beautiful. But then he has 
few teeth and they are brown. Belanu's teeth are 
white as almonds when Damka peels them in heated 
water to make almond paste. My little Egyptian 
cat came and jumped up on his knee. This aston- 
ished me. It is a shy little cat. But it was not shy 
with Belanu. He wore a wondrous garment, like 
a peacock's neck, with threads of gold curling 
through it. Yet he let my cat jump upon it and 
stroked her kindly, though she ran her claws in and 
out through it. He said to me: " A little cat like 
this is a very pretty beast, lady Iltani." And I said 
a foolish thing in answer. Is it not strange, O 
Sikku, how the words that come out of the mouth, 
can be different from the words that are in the 
heart? I was thinking: "He is more beautiful 
than the images of the hero Gilgamesh. The gods 
must have long hands like Belanu." But, Sikku, 
what I said was : " If there were little lions as small 
as cats, they would be prettier. I have often wished 
for a little lion." Tell me, Sikku, can you think of 
any reason why I should have spoken thus? For it 
was also a lie about the little lion. Never, never 
have I wished for a little lion. Sikku, I will now 
say what is really important. Baal Belanu has asked 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

for me in marriage. My kind mother, and my con- 
siderate unele will not force me to say yes. But 
they have told me plainly that I will be a wicked 
girl and a temptress of the gods' wrath if I do not 
say yes. I will now tell you the strangest part of all. 
I wish to marry Belanu and I do not wish to marry 
Belanu. Did you ever hear of another one who 
felt in this way? Did you ever feel thus about 
Etiatim? Write me a message of advice very 
quickly, or by Ishtar ! I may have to decide for my- 
self. 

Sikku ! He has sent me a little lion. He has sent 
me a baby lion. How could he find a baby lion and 
send it to me so quickly? It is no longer a lie that 
I wish a little lion. Never was there anything so 
charming. It's head is round like a bowl, and downy 
as apples of Persia. It's clumsy paws make soft 
my heart. When it licks my fingers, its tongue is 
pinker than the core of conch-shells and rough like 
sand. It has a collar of lapis-lazuli and green jasper. 
It has eyes like yellow jasper and black onyx. It 
would be hard to say " no " to Baal Belanu, for then 
I should have to return to him the little lion ! Do 
you think I am perhaps hiding my true feelings 
from you, Sikku ? So be it. Think that it is my lit- 
tle lion who writes to you. See — I have made 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

him set here the print of his paw as a seal to this let- 
ter. Greetings to Sikku from the little lion that Bel- 
anu gave to Iltani. 

XI 

Belanu, King of the Four Quarters, to Iltani, 
Queen of Belanu and all that he possesses : 

Since by the promise of Iltani 
I have been crowned, 
I am a king indeed. 

The Four Quarters of the earth are mine, 

The Four Quarters of the heaven are mine ! 

The mighty King who dwelleth delicately 

In his palace beside E-Sagila, 

In his house near the lofty House of Marduk 

Walketh as in a sleep, 

Dreaming that the Four Quarters are his; 

But I, Belanu the poet, 

I Belanu, Lord of Iltani, 

Am King of Kings 

Being King of Iltani ! 

Hands that have touched her hands 
In the clasp of betrothal, 
Ye too should become poets, 
Ye too should sing a song, 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

Ye should make a promise also ! 

Speak, hands of Belanu ! 

By the magic of love, 

In the name of Iltani, 

I, your master, conjure you ! 

Speak! 

Thus say my hands: 
" Beautiful deeds only will we do 
Forevermore, 

Beautiful deeds only from henceforth forever 
Will we perform, 
We the hands of Belanu, 
The happy hands that have touched Iltani's! " 



But for you, O my mouth, 

You that have touched the fire of the inner altar, 
Silence ! 

No words outworn by the mouths of others 
Could tell fittingly 
Of that wonder; 

New words would you need, mouth of Belanu, 
To sing that miracle; 
Words fresher than the first flowers 
Blooming in the first dawn 
From an earth still virgin. 
Silence only can sing of it, 
Silence of the lover's heart, 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

More wonderful than the sound of a thousand dul- 
cimers 
In the hands of rejoicing gods; 
Sweeter than the shrilling of Ishtar's heart-strings 
When the breath of Tammuz her lover 
Plays across them. 

Answer me, O my beloved, 

Whisper it to me across the dark blossom of night 

My heart will hear. 

Answer me this thing, O my beloved ! 

Was not the silence of my mouth upon yours 

A song of songs? 

The silence of your mouth beneath mine 

Said more to me than all the poems ever uttered. 

O flower of life, 

Mouth of Iltani ! 

The venomous wild-bee, Death, 

When he drinks your honey 

Will forget to sting. 

You will not know the sting of Death, beloved, 

But on his wings you will be borne 

To the land at the confluence of waters, 

To the immortal, shining land, 

At the meeting of rivers 

Fairer than the river of Babylon 

By which we met, — 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

The rivers of everlastingness ! 
Far from the dark Cave of Aralu 
Will the wild-bee Death soar with you 
Having forgotten to sting! 

What of the night, Iltani ? 

What of this night blossoming from our day of days 

Whereon you sprang so wildly awake, 

Beneath my kiss? 

Will you sleep to-night? 

Can you sleep, beloved, 

Apart from me, tossed by the wonder of love, 

Apart from me, tossing as on a sea of fire 

With none to comfort you? 

With none to hold in a strong hand 

The tiller of your boat of dreams, — 

To make fast the cord of the wild sail 

Swelling with the wind of love? 

With none to lay his other hand beneath your head, 

Your tender head dizzy with sweet desire, 

Bewildered by the tossing of those waves of flame 

Will you sleep to-night, beloved? 

I shall not sleep ! 

But my waking will be more delicious 
Than any sleep, 

Yea, though Ishtar herself descended with it 
Crowned by stars of seven colours, 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

Bringing dreams of seven colours. 
Not for the glory of Marduk, son of Ea, 
Would I sleep this night, O my beloved ! 
For my dreaming might be empty of you, 
But my waking will be filled with you, 
As a lotus with fragrance, 
As a lute with music, 
As the sun with fire ! 

XII 

Iltani, to her dear lord, Belanu : May Bel-Mar- 
duk and Ishtar, Mistress of the gods, cause my lord 
to live forever. Such was also my prayer to them 
all the night that is past. Iltani tells her lord that 
she did not sleep. Iltani tells her dear lord, that 
she lay on a couch in the garden this night that is 
gone, because of the house being too little for her 
heart. But sleep visited her not. The Star of 
Ishtar was her companion. All night she gazed 
upon the Star of Ishtar. Iltani has no sister — the 
Star was her sister. A mother she has — but the 
Star was more than a mother. There are things 
the Star of Ishtar comprehendeth which mothers 
do not comprehend. All night it smiled upon me, 
though my thoughts were not of its Lady but of my 
Lord. Iltani tells her lord that she has made a little 
shrine and set upon it his beautiful words. Not one 
of them has she broken, nor ever will break. She has 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

burnt frankincense before them as before an image 
of a god. If this be wrong, she is sorry, but she can- 
not do otherwise. The gods must do as they de- 
cree. If they will punish, they will punish. Iltani 
will bear it even with gladness. To burn the frank- 
incense comforts her heart which has pain to write 
so poor a letter to her lord. Why did not the 
gods make me a poet also ? I send my lord by the 
hand of Damgula his dear slave-mother and mine, 
a girdle of faded jasmine. By my fingers it was 
woven. It is faded because of being all night 
around me. It seemed to Iltani that the girdle of 
jasmine was her lord's arm around her. This lotus 
flower I send is crushed because it lay all night be- 
neath Iltani's head. It seemed to her sweet, like 
the hand of her lord, of her beloved. Iltani has 
sharp pain in her heart because of sending such poor, 
naked words. She would wish to send words beau- 
tiful as precious stones. Iltani prays all the gods 
and goddesses, both great and small, to give her the 
gift of beautiful speech that she may write worth- 
ily to her lord. May my lord live forever and ever, 
though Iltani should remain after death in the dark 
Cave of Aralu. 

XIII 

Iltani, to Sikku my poor friend : I call you poor, 
O Sikku, because of thinking that all women are 
poor compared with Iltani, — Iltani who has Bel- 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

ami for her own. It is not that Etiatim is not 
worthy, it is that none are worthy compared with 
Belanu. It is not that you do not love Etiatim, or 
that Etiatim does not love you, it is only because 
of none having the power to love like Belanu and 
Iltani. Be not wroth with me, Sikku. Thus do I 
feel. Yet though I have such great love for my 
lord Belanu, greater has grown my love for others, 
even for my little lion and my cat and my Persian 
lamb. Judge then, O Sikku, of how much more I 
must love you than formerly I loved you. This is 
a mystery. It is as if my heart were a magic cup 
filled with the wine of Ishtar : though I pour it forth 
continuously, my heart remains full. 

I will now tell you, Sikku, what I forgot to say 
at the beginning. Belanu the great poet and Iltani 
the dumb girl are betrothed. Why have I no words, 
so that I feel verily like a dumb-girl? Why was not 
I also born a poet? By the life of the gods ! Why 
did they not do that for me? Sikku, my lord made 
the marriage gift in gold. He also gave to me 
brooches and arm-bands of un-pierced pearls. They 
are upon me now. Also a long necklace of pierced 
pearls to wear after marriage. Also a little dragon 
like that on the gate of Ishtar wrought of sapphires 
and emeralds and enamel. I would wish my lord 
less rich, Sikku. Could it be possible for him to 
think that some of my joy is because of his riches? 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

If so it could be, I would wish him to have no more 
than sufficient to pay the marriage gift, and in sil- 
ver. Sikku, I will tell you a secret. Though I have 
not the gift of poetry, yet I have written a poem. 
Yet not I, but my heart has written it. I will not 
show it to Belanu because of shame. But I will 
show it you, Sikku, because of knowing your kind 
heart and because of knowing also that you could 
not make even such a little cripple poem as this. 
I charge you on the head and feet of Ishtar, not to 
show it to Etiatim. It is not a wise poem. Indeed 
it has much foolishness mixed with it. But does it 
not seem to you, Sikku, that all poems, no matter how 
beautiful, have a sweet foolishness mixed with them? 
To me it seems so. This is my poem. 

I was like a little stranger bird, 
A little honey-bird of Africa 
That had wandered to Babylon 
Blown by the winds of fate, 
The flower I longed for, 
The flower I seemed to remember 
Far away as in a land before birth, 
The flower whose honey I pined for, 
I could not find. 
The honey of jasmine flowers, 
The honey of lotus flowers, 
The honey of moon-flowers, 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

The honey of garden lilies, 

The honey of wild lilies, 

Even the honey of the little roses of Babylon 

Could not satisfy my desire. 

Always I was longing for that nameless flower, 

I could not quite remember, 

The flower whose honey would be as life to me. 

One day to my mother's house 

Came the Lord Belanu, 

The poet Belanu. 

More beautiful than Tammuz, 

Ishtar's lover. 

His beard was like a shrub of pomegranate, 

His mouth within it like a flower of pomegranate. 

Again he came, 

Bringing this time the marriage gift. 

We clasped hands in betrothal, 

My mother and my father's brother 

Smiling upon us. 

My mother and my father's brother 
Went forth into the garden, 
Leaving us together, 
Leaving us alone together 
For a little space, 
For a small, sweet space of time, 
Such as a nightingale would take 
To fly across the waters of Babylon. 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

Then Belanu put his arms about me, 
Lifting me to his face. 

Against his beard that was like a shrub of pome- 
granate, 
I was as a bird nestling; 
His mouth like a flower of pomegranate 
Was the flower I had longed for. 
I sipped its honey, 
And lo ! new life flowed into me, 
Wonderful, sparkling ! 
I am no longer like a little stranger bird, 
I have found my nest, 
I have found my flower, 
I have found my lord! 

I forgot to say that when the beard of my lord is 
observed closely, it is curled in rings as well as in 
rods. Near his mouth are the ring-curls as in the 
statue of the hero Gilgamesh, but more beautiful. 
Write to me quickly with wishes of love. Sikku, I 
charge you on the head of your little son not to 
show my poem to Etiatim, and not to laugh at it in 
secret. If you should do so, I am sure that it would 
bring misfortune upon you, O Sikku. 

XIV 

Iltani, the almost destroyed one, to Sikku in whom 
is her hope : Woe has overtaken me, Sikku. Black 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

woe has cast me down like a cup of alabaster. I 
am broken in pieces. My joy is spilt upon the hun- 
gry earth. Like a greedy dog the earth has lapped 
up my joy. I am dry and empty like a broken reed 
from which the pith has been drawn. My hand 
shakes for lack of sleep, for fulness of anguish. 
All this night that is past the night spirits tor- 
tured me. Lilu and Lilitu his handmaiden tore my 
breast, dug into my heart with sharp talons, rent 
my heart to ribbons. Labasu, the overthrower, cast 
me down from the seven-staged tower of my joy. 
I am crushed upon the pavement of despair. Ra- 
bisu, the lyer-in-wait, seized upon me, springing 
from behind the curtain of delight. All the evil 
demons have hunted me down, Utukku, Shedu, 
Etimmu. Help, Sikku, or I perish. 

Thus it befell: Yesterday at the seventh hour 
of the second half, Belanu having departed, came 
to my mother's house lord Sin-idinnam, Chief Stew- 
ard of the King's chief concubine, the lady Ilat-akhe- 
shu. In a litter of cedar overlaid with silver did 
he come, robed in scarlet of the King's household, 
terrible to behold as a pillar of fire. Accompanied 
by the chief eunuch of the lady Ilat-akhe-shu, also 
wearing a mantle of scarlet but of smaller size, 
did he come. Accompanied also by my Uncle Nabu- 
zer-ibini, with fat face fatter for much smiling, did 
he come. Never, O Sikku, in an evil dream brought 

144 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

by the eating of unripe fruit, shall so terrible a face 
be seen as the face of Sin-idinnam. A face of de- 
vouring. Eyes of devouring. A beard like iron- 
wires, like the mane of wild horses. Interwoven 
like a dark forest wherein dwell evil beasts and de- 
mons. With a nose great as the Stele of the great- 
est King. A nose causing sinking of the liver to 
behold; laced with veins of purple and vermilion, 
like the hideous orchids of Sheb-Ur which are sold 
by venders on the Spring Festival, because of diffi- 
culty in finding. With small warts upon it as upon 
the orchids of Sheb-Ur. With small hairs upon it as 
upon those orchids. Sikku, this dread man wishes 
to take me in marriage. 

To my uncle Nabu-zer-ibini he has offered double 
the marriage gift of Belanu and in gold, to be re- 
turned to Belanu as forfeit money. May Bel have 
mercy upon me and deal harshly with my uncle, for 
my uncle has accepted this money. He wishes me 
to cast off my lord, and marry with this terrible 
man. He tells me for reason, that he is ten times 
as rich as Belanu, and that I will be a lady of high 
station in the palace of the King. My mother also 
coaxes me, saying that I will bear the right-hand 
fan of the lady Ilat-akhe-shu, and be almost as a 
lady of the queen. What is this man's riches to me? 
What is the fan of the lady Ilat-akhe-shu to me? 
What is Ilat-akhe-shu herself to me, or the Queen 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

even, or the King himself? Though I had never 
seen my dear lord Belanu, I would wish to drink 
flame and die before wedding with Sin-idinnam and 
his terrible nose, and his devouring eyes. His eyes 
upon me were the eyes of a butcher regarding a 
lamb. Of a hungry butcher regarding a lamb. Oh, 
for the eyes of Belanu to wash away the evil of that 
look from off my face ! The eyes of Belanu which 
are like springs of love welling from a clean heart. 
I will light a flame on the little shrine I have made 
for the words of Belanu and drink it, before I will 
marry with this terrible man. My uncle and my 
mother are banded against me. I have none but 
you to help me, O Sikku. O Sikku, daughter of my 
mother's kind sister Kudashu, whom I ever loved 
more than my mother, but who is now in Aram — 
help me. Send help. Come yourself with Etiatim 
to help me. If you cannot help me, O Sikku, I 
shall destroy myself utterly. By the life of all the 
gods I swear it. 

I forgot to say that I do not know whether my 
lord has been told. I have had no word from my 
lord. But what can he do if my uncle returns him 
double the marriage gift? Even the King makes 
obeisance to the law. Send a quick runner with 
help if you cannot come yourself, or by the heart 
of Ishtar ! I will drink flame and go down to 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

Aralu where Sin-idinam cannot find me, no ! Not 
even through the power of the King ! 

XV 

Belanu to Iltani who is all his as he is all hers, by 
the decree of Marduk and Ishtar which changes not: 

Beloved, I have heard, I have been told. May 
Ishtar's terrible sister Ereshkigal, Queen of the 
place of darkness, by the power of Namtar, her dire 
messenger, god of Pestilence, torment the perfidious 
Nabu-zer-ibini, through countless ages. Forgive me, 
O my beloved, that I do not write to you a song. 
Gone is song from my heart, fled far away like a 
bird that urchins stone with pebbles from a sling. 
In the temple of my heart resound only cries of 
mourning, lamentations of one who has no hope. 
For though my love for you is of such strength that 
it moves the gods, it cannot avail to move the heart 
thrice petrified of your seven times accursed uncle, 
the false Nabu-zer-ibini. In your father's stead the 
law gives him power of a father over you. Im- 
placable is the law. Even love may not avail against 
the law, love that maketh to relent the hearts of 
gods. 

Therefore since the bright world has become to 
us as the dark Cave of Aralu, since in this darkened 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

world we may not even be together, let us descend 
hand in hand to Aralu, where none can divide us. 
Damgula, my mother of compassion who bears you 
this message, will show you the way. Go forth with 
her, O my beloved, if your love be strong as Bel- 
anu's. 

At that gate of the city which is nearest your 
mother's house, a litter awaits you. Go with Dam- 
gula and mount within it. Thence my runners will 
bear you to my house " The Envy of Princes " in my 
fair gardens near Borsippa. You shall be sacred to 
me as the memory of my mother's face in the last 
sleep. This is what I would do, my beloved. From 
India I brought with me a potent drink — " Rest of 
Brahma " it is called. It brings death without pain. 
Like a lover's kiss it stills the anguish of the heart 
without torment. I will have saddled my white 
horse Z6r, who is without blemish like our love — 
my horse Zor that I captured alone in the moun- 
tains, — that I tamed alone. Having put the vial 
of soft release in the breast of my garment, I will 
mount upon Zor, lifting you to the saddle before 
me. His fleet hoofs shall bear us far from trouble, 
toward the North, toward the mountains for which 
he neighs in dreams, deep into the forests that lie be- 
tween Babylon and the hills of the North. There 
we will free him to his delight, and hand in hand, 
having drunk of " The Rest of Brahma," we will 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

sink together to the dim Kingdom of Aralu. We 
will dwell together there. Better together in the 
Shadow, than apart in the light of the Sun. Let us 
do this thing for the sake of our love, Iltani, if your 
love be strong as mine. Afterwards, our Mother 
of Pity, Damgula, will pray the prayer for release 
to Ishtar. But if Ishtar will not grant our release, 
then to Tammuz, the lover of her youth; with a fes- 
tival garment adorning his image, that he may at 
least play for us on his flute of lapis-lazuli, with 
his ring of porphyry. 

May Ishtar strengthen your heart, O my beloved, 
and send you to me quickly. 

XVI 

Sikku, to the little Iltani, her lamb : Fear not, my 
little lamb Iltani, almost as dear to me as my first- 
born, — Fear not, nor think a second time of drink- 
ing flame. I send strong succour for you. This 
ring which belongs to Etiatim my lord, dear to me 
and worthy to me as is Belanu to you, take straight- 
way, going in secret, to the lady Ina-Esagila — 
Mayoress of the central quarter of the city of Baby- 
lon. Etiatim, your brother because of devotion, bids 
you so to do. Tell her all, offering her your little 
lion as a thank-offering. Great is her longing to- 
wards the young of lions saith Etiatim. He knows 
of this weakness in a woman otherwise strong, be- 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

cause of relationship through the second marriage 
of his father with her third niece. Go straight- 
way to the house of Ina-Esagila bearing this ring 
and the little lion, and tell her all. I will not 
lengthen time by reasons for this advice. I send it 
by the swiftest runner in Hish. Trust the wisdom 
of Etiatim my lord, who in most things is as a god. 
May Bel and Ishtar count the hairs of your head 
and direfully punish all who may harm one of them. 

XVII 

Iltani, to Belanu her lord both in life and in death: 
I send, my lord, dearer to me than heaven and 
earth, and all that is in heaven and earth, this 
letter from my friend and mother's sister's 
daughter, the lady Sikku, wife of Etiatim of 
Hish in Paraga. The lady Sikku of Hish is to be 
relied on next to the lady Ishtar of Arbela. Suffer 
Damgula to return quickly with your consent, O my 
dear lord, that we may hasten together in secret, 
bearing the ring of Etiatim and the little lion to 
the lady Mayoress Ina-Esagila. If this fail, gladly 
will I go with you to Aralu. May all the gods pre- 
serve your life as their own life. 

XVIII 

Iltani, to my sister-mother Sikku, best beloved 
after Belanu : 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

May you bear fifty sons, O Sikku, like to Etiatim 
as twin-brothers. May you bear fifty daughters like 
to you as twin-sisters. My hands about the feet of 
Etiatim and my blessings upon his head. My love 
and blessings upon Sikku like a Queen's Festival gar- 
ment of purple and fine gold. As Etiatim com- 
manded so I did. With the ring and the little lion 
I sought the lady Mayoress, Ina-Esagila, in her own 
house. Sending in the ring and the little lion before 
me I was admitted straightway to her presence. 
But Damgula was not admitted beyond the second 
chamber. In this chamber were many others, both 
men and women. Their faces were heavy with wait- 
ing or sharp with fear. They stared upon me ex- 
ceedingly. This was a moment of great trial. 
When I passed into the presence of the lady May- 
oress, the trial became greater. She received me 
alone. My knees felt as though bending back- 
ward. My heart-strings were slackened. I did 
not dare to lift my eyes. Her voice came 
to me as from a far place, across troubled 
waters. She called me " child " and bade me 
look upon her face. Her voice was deep like that 
of a man, but full of kindness. When I obeyed 
her command my fear was softened, for her coun- 
tenance though stern was comely. Beneath the 
eyebrows of a judge, her eyes were the eyes of 
a mother. Her robes of office caused her form 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

to appear awful, but under her robes I saw the 
breasts of a mother-woman. She held the little 
lion in her arms and he played with the dread Seal 
of Office about her neck, as a child unknowing might 
play with the neck-jewels of Namtar when he car- 
ries it to the cave of death. Looking into her eyes, 
and perceiving her lips smiling, my confidence became 
as that of the little lion. I drew near to her and 
placed my hands about her feet. O Sikku, do not 
think that I would lie to you. This mighty lady 
lifted me against her knees. She spoke comfortable 
words to me, laying her hand upon my head and 
saying " Fear not." So I told her all. But my fear 
returned, beholding the change of her countenance 
as she hearkened to me. When I had made an end 
of speaking, she did not speak. Her eyes gazed 
through me as I had been an image of glass. It was 
as though she saw beyond me some evil sight. Then 
she spoke twice like one in sleep: " This man Sin- 
idinnam — This man Sin-idinnam — " Terrible was 
my fear, Sikku, not understanding the meaning of 
her voice or of her words; perceiving her to be as 
one fallen suddenly on sleep. What could I do, O 
Sikku, but tremble and wait? I could do nothing. 
It seemed to me that I grew to be very old in that 
waiting. It seemed to me that I should go forth 
from her presence with white hairs upon my head. 
But lo ! all at once her face shined again with kind- 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

ness. Her dream passed from it like smoke, and 
she said to me with smiling — Never could you im- 
agine, Sikku, what the lady Mayoress then said to 
me. This is what she said: " Strange may it seem 
to you, O little one, but in my youth I also, even I, 
loved and was beloved by a poet." Sikku, I was 
sure that I was in my little bed in my mother's 
house and dreaming. The roundness of my eyes 
caused the lady Mayoress to laugh. She laughed 
greatly, pinching my chin and my ear. They were 
great pinches like her laugh, but they seemed sweet 
to me like kisses, for I saw she would be on our side. 
And she said further : " O little giver of little lions, 
let not your heart be troubled. Though I know not 
the poems of Belanu, whether they be good or 
whether they be bad, the young man Belanu himself, 
I know to be very good. As for Sin-idinnam, Chief 
Steward of the lady Ilat-akhe-shu, I know many 
things concerning him, — more things indeed than he 
would have me know. For I know things that he 
has done here in the Central quarter of the city, 
which would ill please the King, may he live forever ! 
— should he come to know them also. Therefore 
return to your mother's house in peace, bearing with 
you the order which I will give you." Whereon she 
kissed me, and I wept, and threw my arms about 
her and the little lion which licked my tears. Does 
it seem strange to you, Sikku, that I should have been 

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BELANU AND ILTANI 

so afraid of her in the beginning, and in the end even 
froward with her? This no one could understand 
who was not with her as I was with her. 

And the order she gave me, Sikku, was that my 
mother, Taram-Sagila and my father's brother 
Nabu-zer-ibini must appear before her privily next 
morning at the eighth hour without fail. Nor 
was I afraid because of this order, for the lady 
Mayoress told me that she would speak to them 
with authority yet without anger. This she did, 
dear Sikku, but the authority must have been ex- 
ceeding great, for my mother returned having the 
countenance of a chidden child that has promised 
to be good. And as for my uncle, I had shame for 
him because of his fawnings and prostrations before 
my lord Belanu. It is well to repair wrongdoing, 
but it is not well to eat dirt when no one requires it. 
Yet men are very strange, O Sikku. For I think 
that it pleased my lord that my uncle should eat dirt 
before him, even though he was my uncle and of my 
blood. Yet women also are strange. For though it 
did not please me to be ashamed for one of my own 
blood, yet it did please me that my uncle should be 
humbled before my lord, having so greatly wronged 
him. 

Thus all befell two days gone. Thus it is now 
arranged. The marriage contract is signed. Bel- 
anu and Iltani will go to the temple of Bel-Marduk, 

154 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

on that day of next week sacred to Ishtar. Before 
her shrine they will be blessed as man and wife by 
the high priest of Marduk. 

O Sikku, blessed be your name and the name of 
Etiatim forever. Blessed be your children forever. 
I forgot to say that the lady Mayoress charged me 
with kind greetings to Etiatim and to you. I forgot 
to say, that when the lady Mayoress bade me fare- 
well she made a beautiful prayer for me. These 
were her words : " Grant O Ishtar, that the chil- 
dren of this child may be as the flowers on a flower- 
ing tree in a fruitful season." Do you pray for 
me that I bear only sons, O Sikku, and that each one 
will be more like Belanu than a pomegranate is like 
to a pomegranate. 

XIX 

Belanu to his bride the lady, the rose Iltani, on 
their bridal day: 

I 

Hear, O my rose ! 

Rose of roses, 

Blossom of blossoms, 

Whose heart is a jewel from the sky, 

For you all the morning 

I have been gathering roses ! 

Begging them from laughing friends in Babylon, 

155 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

From smiling friends in Borsippa, 

Buying them from the gardens of wondering venders, 

Buying them even from the sellers in the streets 

Who gaped in amazement, 

Thus selling all their roses at one time, 

To one man, 

Divinely mad ! 

Full of roses are the gardens of " The Envy of 

Princes " 
Yet not one would I gather, 
For these are the gardens thrice blessed 
Through which Iltani will pass 
On the night of bridal. 
The walls of my house shine with roses. 
Not a rose would I gather 
From the walls that will shelter Iltani 
On the night of bridal. 
Thus all the bridal morning, 
I have been gathering the roses of others, 
Roses brought from far cities and distant lands, 
Heaping them on the shoulders of my slaves, 
Roses, roses, ever more and more roses ! 
The way from Babylon to Borsippa 
Is as a garden walking; 
Is as a moving way of roses; 
Roses of India, 
Roses of China, 

i 5 6 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

Roses of Persia, 

Roses from Baalbec and Damascus, 

From the banks of Pharpar and Abana, 

Little dark roses of Babylon fairest of all to me, 

Because of my Rose of Babylon, 

That lady the rose Iltani ! 

Under a trellis of roses 

Sheltered by secret walls 

Hung with roses, 

I have caused to be set the bridal couch of ivory 

On a platform of precious Thyine wood, 

Carved with roses. 

Like the couch of a queen, 

Like a queen's bridal couch. 

It is adorned with purple and fine linen; 

With fine linen 

Edged with needlework 

Of golden roses, 

With purple silk embroidered cunningly 

In roses of silver. 

With my own hands 

Of a worshipper, 

As upon an altar 

I have sprinkled upon it 

Attar of roses. 

The bridal couch of Iltani 

Is like a rose ! 

157 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

Hear, O my rose! 

Rose of roses, 

Blossom of Blossoms, 

You shall walk to delight 

Over roses. 

For I have strewn with them my garden paths 

And the floors of my house, 

So deep they lie about the bridal couch 

That I am jealous. 

For they will kiss your girdle 

Before I can. 

My bride is a rose, 

Queen of roses, 

King of Bees am I, 

Belanu, her bridegroom ! 



II 



Hear, O beloved, another song 

Of how longing for worthiness 

As bridegroom of Iltani, — 

Longing to be in all things worthy 

Of that honour the highest, the most delicious, 

I, Belanu, upon my bridal eve 

Repaired to E-Sagila, to the temple of Marduk 

For purification at the shrine of Ishtar 

From lesser loves of days gone by, 

From loves that were as poisonous gnats 

i 5 8 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

Stinging me in days gone forever, 
Stinging my flesh but not my heart 
Where now nestles that dove of silver flame 
Iltani, the bird of Ishtar. 

At the shrine of Ishtar 

I offered as burnt offering 

A female ruby having many sides, 

Pale in hue as had been the loves it represented, 

Of many facets little as had been those loves. 

I burnt also upon the Altar, 

In the name of Iltani 

A pure pearl, unpierced, perfect, 

Flawless as the heart of Iltani. 

As votive offering 

I hung above the shrine a necklace of lordly em- 
eralds, 

Of the immaculate stones that repel impure desire, 

Vowing faithfulness in the name of Ishtar, to my 
beloved, 

To her whose heart is winged with silver fire, 

Iltani, dove of Ishtar. 

Then did the holy dshipu 

Chant over me the words that drive out evil; 

Then did the holy pashishu 

Pour upon my head the sacred ointment; 

159 



BEJ LNU AND ILTANI 

Then did the holy nisakku 

Pour out in my name to Ishtar 

The wine of libation; 

Then did I stand gladly before the shrine of Ishtar, 

With heart purified, 

Worthy to be the shrine of the bird of Ishtar. 

Great was my joy, 

Great was my heart with devotion to Ishtar, 
With devotion to her brother, Marduk, the resplen- 
dent 
I made obeisance also at his shrine, 
At the shrine of him who is Lord of E-Sagila, 
Lord of the Lofty House 
And of the world. 

Seven shekels of gold did I give to his high-priest 
That songs might be sung in his honour 
By the holy zammeru, 
That music might be played in his honour, 
By the holy lallaru, 
In the name of Belanu and Iltani, 
Night and day without ceasing, 
During the month of bridal. 

So great now was my joy 

That I wished not to leave the house of Marduk, 
That I desired to keep vigil in E-Sagila 
All the night preceding my bridal day. 

1 60 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

Therefore I made offering of a s f " :;~sapphire 

To the holy baru, who watches the stars, 

Who interprets the divine writing on the heavens, 

And he also blessed me, 

Suffering me to mount with him to the seventh stage, 

Even to the topmost stage of the Temple Tower 

Whereon is the golden statue of Bel-Marduk 

Twelve cubits in height, all magnificent, 

Blazing against the onyx sky like a pillar of sunlight. 

The priest of the holy stars 

Would not suffer me to approach the shrine of Bel 

At the foot of his golden image, 

That shrine sacrosanct, 

For worship of his priests only: 

But to the observation place of the stars, 

He made me welcome, 

Saying in the voice of a father, 

" Be you welcome, my son; 

Watch here on the eve of love, 

Under the beams of the star of love. 

The Star of Ishtar, lady Goddess of love. 

Be you blessed, my son, in your vigil, 

You and your love and the lady of your love." 

And standing upon the top of the Temple Tower 
I beheld Babylon spread beneath me 
Like a mantle of divers colours, 
Like the mantle of a king 

161 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

That the dyers have spread out to dry. 

Flowers of light were as fallen stars upon it, 

The shadows of its folds were marvellous, 

Full of awe. 

Round about its borders, 

Like an edging of dim silver, 

Like a purfling of glass, 

Wandered the sacred river. 

I could see the ferrymen in their boats 

Moving as water-flies upon it, 

I could see the reflections of their torches 

Lacing it from bank to bank 

As with serpents of fire, 

As with glistering embroideries of gold upon silver 

That shine round about the border of a King's 

mantle. 
Also the hanging gardens of the King, 
The secret gardens circled by Imgur-Bel, 
Were revealed to my wondering eyes. 
I was as a slave who should behold suddenly 
The uncovered breast of a queen. 

I withdrew my eyes, looking upward 

And lo ! Night as high-priest of all the gods 

Bending above me, 

Wearing a breast-plate of stars, 

Mitred with the moon, 



162 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

Having about his neck as seal of his high office 
The Star of Ishtar. 

I trembled and looked down again, 
Searching for the little, well-loved street 
Where stands the house of your lady mother. 
Soothing the vertigo of infinity 
By thinking on my little rose of Babylon 
Folded warm and mortal beneath its roof, 
In the sweet sleep of earth. 

Then a second time I looked upward, 
Gazing now only upon the Star of Ishtar, 
Making obeisance to it, 
In your name and mine. 
And as I rose from making obeisance 
The priest drew near to me 
With the smile of an indulgent father, 
Saying, " O Belanu, son of Mar-irsitim 
I, even I, Iddin-Marduk, watcher of the holy stars, 
Have for you a bridal gift." 
Whereon, ever smiling, 
He took my hand in his, leading me, 
Saying to me, " This is my bridal gift to you, 
That you shall gaze upon the Star of Ishtar 
Through the sacred lens of crystal 
More precious by far, 
Than the great elmeshu stone 
In the diadem of the King." 

163 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

With awe I approached the sacred lens 

Which is set in a cylinder of virgin gold, 

In a golden tube longer by many lengths 

Than the golden temple-horns of E-Anna, 

Of the Heavenly House at far famed Uruk 

Sacred to Ishtar. 

With awe I held aloof from it, 

Saying unto the priest of the holy stars : 

"What if I be unworthy of this gift, O father?" 

Thus he answered me : 

" Not you but your love is worthy, O my son. 

For I who read the hearts of men, 

Even as I read the stars on Nabu's tablet, 

Have read your heart, 

Have read your love, 

Finding it worthy. 

Know that there is a love beyond love, O my^on, 

Beyond the hunger of man for woman, 

Beyond the thirst of woman for man. 

And in your love for your lady, 

I have discerned this love also, 

Like a thread of pure light 

Woven through a tapestry of flame. 

Wherefore, my son, approach, 

Looking without fear through the sacred lens 

Upon the Star of Love." 

164 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

And looking through the lens of crystal 
I beheld as it were a fountain of precious stones 
Playing athwart a mist of pearl dust; 
As it were a shield of silver fire 
Bathed in rainbows, 

And lo ! on a sudden I was falling upward 
Drawn by the irresistible magic of celestial beauty, 
Helpless as a spark in the talons of the wind, — 
I, Belanu, yet not Belanu, 
I, in the body, yet not in the body, 
I, myself, yet more than myself, 
I, ever Iltani's, yet more than Iltani's. 
And I perceived suddenly 
That I was standing in the centre of space, 
Upon the summit of the Mountain of the West, 
Upon the dread Mountain that upholds the firma- 
ment, 
And gazing awe-struck 

I beheld the shining bark of Sin, the Moon-God, 
Sailing toward me across the ocean of ether. 
Within it was Sin himself, steering it, 
Resplendent beyond resplendence, 
At the prow stood the Lady Ishtar, 
Beautiful beyond beauty. 
I fell upon my face in worship 
But they bade me rise, 
They bade me rise and enter into the bark with them 

165 

/ 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

And being entered in, the Goddess of goddesses spake 

to me, 
Saying: " Thou that art said to know the love be- 
yond love, 
Thou that hast been purified in an earthly temple, 
Thou shalt be purified in heavenly temples 
If — -thou knowest verily the love that is beyond 

love!" 
And it seemed to me that in her voice was mocking, 
And it seemed to me that the smile of Sin, her father, 
Held mockery. 

Yet was my heart strong within me, 
For I knew that I loved my lady beyond hunger 
Even as my lady loved me beyond thirst, 
Yea, I knew that I loved Iltani beyond the love of 

man for woman, 
With that love which seeks even beyond the gods, 
For a god still greater 
With the love of the poet for poetry 
Which is as the love of that God beyond gods 
For the beauty that is beyond beauty. 

And again Ishtar spake, saying: 

" Thou shalt be purified in heavenly temples of the 

god, 
With gods as witnesses; 
Thou shalt be purified and consumed 
Or thou shalt be purified and live, 

166 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

According to thy love ; 

For if thy love be mortal only 

Thou shalt perish, 

But if thy love contain within it, 

Even so much as a mote of the love beyond love, 

Thou shalt survive. 

Behold the witnesses ! " 

And I lifted up mine eyes, 

And lo ! a fleet of heavenly ships 

Terrible in effulgence, 

Gathering from the four quarters of the heavens. 

In the nigh-most ship blazed the form of Marduk, 

And of Sarpanit, his shining consort, 

And of Nabu, his mighty son, 

The glorious Legitimate, 

Scribe of the gods, 

Together with Tashmit his consort ; 

And following them sailed all the chief gods, 

With the goddesses their consorts, 

In barks of light, 

And all the Anunnaki 

With their consorts 

In lesser barks, 

And the heavens glared with insufferable splendour. 

Again Ishtar spake, saying: 

" First thou shalt enter into the Temple of the Moon, 

167 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

O Belanu, aspiring one, — 

Into the heavenly house of Sin, my father, 

Which is wrought of frozen fire, 

Burning with coldness 

More than all the fires of earth with hotness ! " 

And the gods cried as with one voice: 

u Let him enter into the Temple of the Moon! " 

Sin steered to the portals of the moon, 

Sin and Ishtar thrust me within them, 

The glory of the moon was as a million swords of 

crystal 
Piercing my eyes : 
The frozen fire of the moon was as a million spears 

of ice 
Piercing my heart : 
The thought of my heart was 
" O how bitter is the jesting of the gods, 
That Iltani's lover should perish of frozen fire ! " 
And behold! the thought of Iltani, 
The thought of my beloved, 
Kept me warm even in the house of Sin, 
Even in the midst of the frozen moon-fire ! 



Ishtar called to me with mocking 
" Come forth again! " 
Sin called to me with mocking; 
■' Come forth again ! " 

168 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

And the gods all laughed together 

As when Ramman clashes the cymbals of thunder. 

I came forth, 

I came forth unhurt, 

And there fell silence upon the gods. 

Then spake Marduk, Lord of Heaven and Earth, 

Lord of the gods : 

" Verily, this mortal is a mighty lover! 

He hath survived the ordeal of the Moon, 

Let him now withstand the ordeal of the Sun. 

Let him enter into my heavenly house 

Wherein Shamash only of all the gods 

May dwell in safety." 

And all the gods cried as with one voice : 

II Let him enter into the heavenly temple of the 

Sun!" 

Marduk took me within his ship of light, 
Steering to the portals of the Sun: 
Marduk and Sarpanit thrust me within them. 
The glory of the Sun was as a billion dragons of fire 
Devouring my eyes : 

The raging hotness of the Sun was as a billion de- 
mons of fever 
Devouring my heart : 

169 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

The thought of my heart was : 
" O how merciless is the jesting of the gods 
That Iltani's lover should perish of fire 
Whom the fire of love could not consume ! " 
And behold my love for Iltani 
Was as an armour about me 
Casting off the terrible shafts of the Sun-fire 
As they had been arrows of cassia wood tipped with 
yellow flowers! 

Marduk called to me with mocking: 

" Come forth again ! " 

Sarpanit called to me with mocking: 

" Come forth again ! " 

Sin and Ishtar laughed and the gods with them. 

I came forth as they bade me, 

I came forth unharmed. 

The gods were silent, 

Some bowing their heads as in thought. 

Nabu the scribe of the gods, 

The patron deity of poets 

And of fair Borsippa, 

Inscribed these things upon his tablets, 

Resting them against the knees of Tashmit 

His beloved consort, 

Smiling a secret smile. 

170 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

Then spake Marduk a second time, 

Addressing his words to me, 

Even to me all unworthy, 

Thus said Marduk: 

" Thou hast won the right to ask two questions of 

the gods, 
Two questions mayest thou ask the gods, O Belanu, 
And the gods will answer thee." 
Making obeisance, thus did I reply: 
" O mighty Lord, Marduk Lord of the Gods, 
Praised be thy name forever! 
This would I know : 

Are ye, the gods here assembled, all in all? 
Or is there above ye yet another god? " 

And the gods veiled their faces. 

Marduk also having veiled his face, answered thus : 
" There is a god above us." 

Then for a second question I asked this thing: 
" Grant me to know the name of that god, O Mar- 
duk! 
That I may worship him! " 

And Marduk answered me from behind the veil: 
" Not even to us the gods is His name known, 
But the fear of him is called the Rose of Wisdom." 

171 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

Thereat, I found myself again upon the tower 

Of the earthly temple of Bel-Marduk 

In dear, familiar Babylon, 

And the priest of the holy stars knelt beside me, 

Laving my forehead, breathing into my nostrils, 

Whispering to me : 

" Was the vision beneficent, O my son? " 

And I said: " The vision was beneficent, O my 

father." 
So he bade me go in peace, 
Blessing me a second time, 
For the dawn was breaking, 
The dawn of my bridal with Iltani. 

And thus, O my rose ! 

I bring you as crowning gift 

The Rose of Wisdom, 

Which is the worship of the God beyond the gods, 

Whose name even the gods know not : 

Yet my heart knoweth it, 

Yea, sure is my heart, O beloved, 

That the name of the God beyond the gods 

Is Love-beyond-love. 

XX 

Iltani, the bride, to her Lord the bridegroom, Be- 

laiiu: 
A little song of belief and unbelief on the day after 
Marriage. 

172 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

I believe in love, 

I believe in my lord Belanu: 

I believe in joy, 

I believe in my lord Belanu: 

I believe in light, 

I do not believe in darkness: 

I believe in Ishtar the loving, 

I do not believe in Ereshkigal the implacable : 

I believe in life, 

I do not believe in Aralu the place of death; 

I believe in my lord Belanu 

And in the new-found God of Belanu 

The God beyond gods, 

Whose name is Love-beyond-love : 

I believe that he will deal with us the greatly loving, 

As Enlil with Ut-napishtim and his beloved 

When after the terrible flood had abated, 

Taking them by the hand he led them up, 

Touching their foreheads, blessing them, 

Saying: " Hitherto Ut-napishtim was only a man, 

Now he and the wife of his love shall be as gods. 

They shall dwell in the high distance, 

At the confluence of heavenly waters 

In the shining land above the earth, 

At the meeting of the rivers of everlastingness." 

This I believe, I the joyous apostate Iltani, 

Who have turned from the dark god, 

From the dark goddess, 

173 



BELANU AND ILTANI 

From Nergal terrible king of Aralu, 
From Ereshkigal terrible queen of Aralu, 
To worship the God of Belanu 
Because of my love for Belanu, 
Because of my faith in Belanu, 
Because of my worship for Belanu 
Who himself is as a god to me ! 

Such are the beliefs and the unbeliefs of Iltani, 
The happy apostate, Belanu's bride, Iltani! 



174 



FANTASIA 



LIFE 

I THOUGHT I really knew Life, 
For I had known her a long time, 
But she is a various wench, 
Hard to be wholly known 
At any time, 

Something indeed of a witch-wife 
Is Life. 

I came upon her suddenly in a trench 
Gnawing a bone, 
A boy's breast-bone. 
Her dress was in tatters, 
Party-colored like tattered flesh; 
Her hair was a wet scarlet mesh, 
Her eyes greedy and bleared. 
There were flakes of unspeakable disgust upon her 

head, 
Her face was abominably smeared, 
Even her teeth were red : 
And she snarled: Nothing matters! 
Let me alone! 

Slavering and mumbling that awful, piteous bone. 
I did not stay, 
I fled away, away, away 

177 



LIFE 

With a thundering of horror in my ears, 

And my heart lancinated with fears, 

And my heart-strings clanging with grief and pain. 

I thought, u Never again, never again 

Will I care for Life! 

She is not friendly to us p 

She is a ghoul-wife, 

A Succubus" 

I longed to know Death, 

Because I thought he hated Life as I did, 

He was coming to visit me, 

But something happened to forbid; 

And wandering drearily 

Forth from the room where I had awaited him in 

vain, 
I came again 
On Life. 

Oh, she is a witch-wife ! 
She was beautifully drest, 
Clean and fragrant as rain 
In her April best; 
Her smooth hair smelt of the sun, 
The buds of her breast 
Shone through leaves half undone. 
She was nursing a half-blown flower 
With a look in her mild eyes, 
Of the Madonna nursing the little Jesus, 

i 7 8 



LIFE 

Part love, part holy surprise : 

She whispered: " You may look at us, 

But do not speak. Steal away! 

This is my most sacred hour! " 

I did not stay: 

On tiptoe I went away. 

With a strange music in my ears, 

In my eyes pleasant tears. 

In my heart an enchanting pain. 

I thought : Now once again, 

I am tempted to love Life, 

It cannot be that she is really unfriendly to us, 

She is only various, 

Not a witch but a fairy -wife! 

I came on her a third time ; 

It was in a city, 

She was going about the street 

In winter of a cold clime, 

Quite naked save for a coating of rankly scented 

powder, 
And a lynx-pelt dyed purple over one shoulder, 
There were soiled, high-heeled, white boots with 

many buttons on her feet, 
Vulgarly, wantonly fashionable little boots, — 
Her eyelids were painted blue, 
Her eyes were lasciviously watchful and without 

pity; 

179 



LIFE 

She looked both younger and older, 

Having in her air something ancient yet very new; 

Something at once servile yet much prouder; 

Walking with the harlot's gait, 

Rotating her limber hips, 

Shaking her pointed breast-fruits 

That had suckled flowers: 

Her prim smile was a little red-beast lying in wait, 

Her mouth had the carnivore's flat glistening lips; 

She had lost all memory of her sacred hours. 

Yet there was still about her 

Something of the witch, even of the goddess, 

She might have been Venus Cloacina 

Herself, no less, 

Questing through that modern city 

As through ancient Rome, 

Lascivious without cleanliness or pity, 

Without shrine or home; 

For I do not agree with Plinius about Cloacina, 

Being sure that there is a Venus of Sewers, 

And that I have seen Life in her likeness. 

She flounced against me 

As I gazed at her with heart-sickness, 

Leaving on the folds of my dress 

A loathly odor of chypre and warm musk, 

Crying roughly : " Get out of my way ! " 

For I stood between her and a redly corpulent Jew, 

Yellow of tusk, 

1 80 



LIFE 

Studded with diamonds 

Like the lump of flesh brought by the Roc to Sinbad 

From the Valley of Diamonds. 

I turned and flew; 

My heels seemed to sprout wings I was so glad 

To be going away from her, 

From Life in that odious guise. 

I thought : Never again, never, 

Never again, either for joy or pain 

Can she bring me surprise, 

This terrible witch-wife, 

This creature that men call Life! 

Yet when for the fourth time I saw her, 

Quite unexpectedly, 

I confess that I was staggered; 

If there is any vocation more avowedly, 

More meticulously opposed to Life 

Than that of being Chela to a Buddhist priest, 

I, at least, 

Have not heard of it from book or philosopher; 

Yet there sat Life, 

Exactly as though she might have been Siddartha's 
wife 

Piously attired in bombastically humble yellow, 

At the feet of her rigidly denatured Guru, — 

So meek of mien that her meekness actually swag- 
gered, 

181 



LIFE 

So wasted with fasting that the shadow, 

Darkly bluish in hue, 

Of Death's bony symbol within, 

Showed through her rarefied flesh 

As the shadow of a chick shows through an egg-shell 

Lifted against the sun. 

Shorn away was the voluptuous mesh 

Of her violently animate hair: 

Her eyes were like pious tapers that had never kin- 
dled a sin, 

Like holy tapers burning only with desire for ex- 
tinction 

In the airless spaces of Nirvana. 

Never, never was there, 

No never, a more devoutly sexless nun, 

Her sacred attitude was a perfect imitation of 
death, — 

You would have said she had learned to exist, 

Without prana, 

Without breath, 

On theological mist. 

It was odious to see Life thus aping Death. 

But she was sincere entirely 

Even thus denying herself through negation 

Blaspheming against herself with fanatic ardour, 

With a sort of ecstatic gusto in abandoning all 
savour. 

She neither looked at me nor spoke to me, 

182 



LIFE 

Being paralyzed with contemplation, 

But her silence urged me not to stay. 

I went heavily away, 

Bent beneath my pack of thought, — • 

Wondering whether Life 

Is really a witch-wife, 

Is everything in pell-mell succession, 

Or is — nought. 

I begged Ti'u the fever-demon 
To tell me what Life is verily, — 
Whether only the incontinent leman 
Of Necessity, 

Or something still more divinely outrageous. 
Ti'u giggled merrily 
Sitting cross-legged upon my breast, 
And searing my lips with red-hot finger nails, 
By way of a minor deity's little jest: 
" What does it signify," said Ti'u, 
" What Life is verily? 
You and I are thus: 

Except this present moment nothing avails 
For either of us. . . ." 

I implored Ti'u, 
Not even protesting 
When he set my hair on fire 
Causing my brain to boil in my skull 

r8 3 



LIFE 

Like ministrone in a pot: 
"0 Ti'u, 

I will submit to anything 

So you grant my desire! 

I will even go without a whimper to Aralu. 

What is it to you, 

Ti'u, 

Whether I am amused or not 
While you are torturing me? 

1 am convinced that it is equally dull 

For both of us, to be solely preoccupied with fever; 

Show me, if only in a dream, 

Life, in her primordial form; 

For she is always a-masking, 

At other times. How can I believe her, 

Or even you, Ti'u! 

Or that I am I, or that any of us are us, 

When all things seem 

Even as Life does, to be something essentially dif- 
ferent 

From what we think them to be? 

Surely it is not much that I am asking, — 

/ do not require you to create a magic storm, 

Or anything of that sort; — the favour is not pro- 
digious 

Really/' 

Ti'u became intent 

184 



LIFE 

Upon making one blazing second seem a thousand 

years. 
I would not scream 

Even in the apparently endless boredom of fever, 
And my indifference bored Ti'u, 
Who prefers having us howl out our fears 
And agonies, — 
A demonic fad of his. 
He said at last, with infernal sulkiness; 
" Very well: 

I will give you a dream of Life in her true likeness; 
That will make you yell! " 

Into a cavern of hot, black cobwebs he plunged me 

There was no time there : 

Whether I remained for aeons or for a moment, 

I have no power of reckoning: 

Darkness was everywhere, 

And suffocating immensity, 

Without content. 

All at once I became horribly aware 

That the cavern wherein Ti'u had plunged me 

Was Space; 

And as suddenly I beheld Life, 

Grown gigantic, overwhelming, 

Incredibly monstrous, 

Moving through it from zenith to nadir, 

From nadir to zenith, 

185 



LIFE 

From the four quarters to the four quarters, 
Backward, forward, upward, downward, far, near. 
Implacably and supernally industrious. 
I could not discern her face, 
But her breath was burning nebulae, 
The black flame of her hair filled the interstellar re- 
gions, 
Eternity was unrolled beneath her feet like a carpet; 
She moved to the sound of immemorial waters: 
Like the winnowing of innumerable legions, 
Like the cohorts of heaven in strong flight, 
Was the sound of her unresting pinions, 
And the beating of her garments therewith; 
As she moved upon her terrific way, 
Her shadow athwart eternity was more blinding than 
light. 



At her side sped Death, 

Eager as a docile lad to do her will: 

She bade him quench suns and he quenched them: 

She bade him stop the breath 

Of a special pismire upon a special grass-blade of 

earth, 
And he obeyed. 

He ran, as she ordered him, to kill and kill; 
Or he came back when she beckoned him, without 

killing. 

186 



LIFE 

Once at her command he slew an Emperor and all 

his minions 
Yet spared the palace kitchen maid. 
Whenever she ordered: u Do thus and thus, my 

son," 
He bowed to her garment's hem, 
Murmuring, " Thy will be done, my mother," 
Obsequiously over-willing. 
What he destroyed 
She took again into her huge grasp 
Re-modelling, re-animating : 
I could hear her thinking: 
Good! That is better done this time. 
She ripped dead stars from their sockets 
And flung them about one by one, 
Re-kindling them to super-terrestrial rockets. 
She undid the clasp 
Of Saturn's belt and drew it tighter, 
Loosened the ribbon of the Fishes, 
Re-strung the Lyre, 
Breathing upon it to make it brighter, 
Set a new comet's mane a-fire : 
Upon the Pleiades rang a stupendous chime 
Carrying out all her most whimsical wishes; 
Gathering universes into the lap of her garment 
And tossing them into a distant void, 
As on earth another 

Would toss seed into fresh loam for re-birth, 

187 



LIFE 

Doing exactly as she pleased with the firmament. 

I felt passionately annoyed, 

She was so like a domineering house-wife 

Setting space in order. 

// this is indeed Life, 

I thought angrily, 

And there is a god in Israel, 

Then she is no less than God's wife, 

And Jahweh is henpecked verily, 

Else he would not he content, 

No matter what befell, 

To muse apart in philosophic detachment 

Contemplating his own magnificence 

And allowing Life to do just as she chooses 

With supernal insolence 

While he muses, 

Rather than enter into a celestial wrangle. 

There should certainly be a Recorder 

To force this matter upon the notice of God, 

That he might re-consider it from a new heavenly 

angle 
And once more take up his official rod. 
As it is, we have over us not Jahweh, but his wife, 
This omnipotent hussy Life! 
And suddenly Life seemed so horrific to me, 
That I shrieked desperately. . . . 
And there was only Ti'u, 
Sitting cross-legged upon my breast, 

188 



LIFE 

Grinning at me with excessive enjoyment. 

He asked : " Well? Have you had a pleasant rest? 

Are you content? " 

I laughed at him fiercely, saying: " / know you! 

You are no demon, Ti'u, 

You are only a fever — 

But I, — / am a believer! " 

These things I "heard with my ears, and saw with my 

eyes, 
When I was sick of a fever; 
Now that I am well again, I think otherwise. 



189 



JEWELS OF DARKNESS 

(To my Collie) 

DARKNESS hangs many veils 
Between waking and sleeping, 
Some most beautiful, others terrible; 
One by one they unfurl, 
Drifting downward 

In delicate folds, at first elusively diapered, 
Burning later to clearness 
Of moving forms 
Diverse and myriad. 

None can tell what manner of veil fair or horrible 
Darkness will choose as the last 
To close him in from waking. 

Most of all do I dread the curtain of wavy crimson 

Broidered with terrible jewels, 

Jewels of eyes unsocketed 

Patterned by twos and twos on the gauze of Dark- 
ness, 

Eyes of helpless creatures that lived and died in be- 
wilderment 

In a dim confusion of patience 

Having endured to the utmost man's bitter injustice 

Without bitterness. 

190 



JEWELS OF DARKNESS 

Eyes of nightingales blinded with red-hot needles 

That for their torturers 

They might sing more sweetly; 

Eyes of half-starved horses 

Flogged to death because of their weakness 

By the man who starved them; 

Eyes of desert creatures, 

Of crag-born eagles 

Dying of fierce nostalgia 

In iron cages: 

Eyes that belonged to pitiful, cringing bodies 

Shredded while sentient, 

Nerve by nerve, with bright, inquisitive scalpels 

In eager hands of the self-same substance, 

In hands of flesh threaded also with nerves. 

O terrible, terrible almost beyond endurance 

Are the jewels of darkness, 

The jewels of eyes ever asking, asking, 

In patient bewilderment 

For the answer that no one knows. 

All the night that is past 

Their mournful, submissive questioning 

Troubled my heart to anguish . . . 

So that I turned my own eyes away from them 

Looking toward God, 

That God by Christians and Jews called Jahweh, 

By Mahomedans Allah, 

191 



JEWELS OF DARKNESS 

But I knew that my look toward him 

Was one with their look toward me, — 

That he would not answer: 

And horror stiffened my heart, 

Horror of God, of this God and his immemorial 

indifference, 
His Omnipotent self-complacency. 

And I cried aloud in unbelief and rebellion, 

" It cannot be that there is that one God only, 

Dwelling in calm aloofness, 

Creator of endless suffering, 

Bland and scathless tormentor of all things living. 

It is not enough, no ! it is not enough 

That once as Man he descended, 

Once only, 

To share in the pangs that all flesh is forever en- 
during. 

One God cannot atone by one Cross only, 

For all the anguish of beast and man through the 
ages, 

Through ages past and to come ! 

Oh, that some younger, humaner God would an- 
„ swer me. " 

Then from the smother of silence 
Laughter jetted, 

Clear and chill as a spurt of April water 

192 



JEWELS OF DARKNESS 

Shot from a shadowy fountain into sunlight; 

Into my dream he flashed with it, 

Radiant, beautiful, adolescent, 

A boy god shaken with mirth celestial, 

Divinely heartless. 

" O little Mortal," his words came broken with 

merriment, 
" Answer me first this thing, 
Then you may question me; 

Why, since men who are verily gods to the beasts 
Show them no mercy, 
Should we the gods above men 
Show men compassion? " 

But I could not answer him this 
And awoke weeping. 



193 



THE MAGIC TREE 

{To Amy Lowell) 

SHE said in her heart. 
In her strange various heart 
Brimmed with magic: 

The Tree of Life in the garden near Babylon, 
The Tree of Life that bears only one kind of fruit, - 
It is not sufficient for me, 
I will create my own Tree of Life; 
Out of the soil that poets have tilled for ages, 
Out of that soil still gravid 
My tree of Life shall spring. 
Bearing many fruits, 
Many blossoms, 

Bearing things no other tree has borne, 
Amazing, 
Different, 

The cup of my heart is filled with magic, 
Into the cup of my heart 
Like a bird diving 
Shall dart my thought 
Bringing forth the jewel of power. 
The pearl that dissolves not 

194 



THE MAGIC TREE 

In the acid of Magic, 

The mystic jewel beyond price, 

That I may create for myself 

By myself 

My Tree of Life. 

She went apart quietly 
To a quiet place 

Of steadfast winds and stars that waited for sunrise 
Her quiet mind as steadfast, 
She locked triply 
Against all things alien, 
Awaiting sunrise 
With the winds and stars. 
And when the golden mast 
Of the first day-beam 
Thrust above the horizon, 
It was as if the galleon of the sun 
Bore down upon her freighted with treasure, 
With innumerable promises, 
With fulfillment. 

And breathing upon the soil consecrated to poets, 
She cried: " Now! Now, spring forth! 
Spring forth my tree of Life! 
Arise! Glitter! " 
And from that soil long delved, 
Worn with fruitage, 

Twigs of crystal, many coloured, antlered up 

195 



THE MAGIC TREE 

Bearing leaves of silver, 
Of gold, of copper, 

Of jade pallid as the white of women's eyes, 
Darker than the scales of dragons, 
Clearer than the core of polar ice, — 
Bearing blossoms more incredible than orchids 
Redder than the red in dreams, 
Bluer than the blue of visions, 
Of shapes fourth dimensional, 
And fifth dimensional, 
Terrible as the faces seen in fever, 
Beautiful as the faces seen in the fever of love, — 
Bearing fruit of precious stones, 
Bearing samtu-stones as fruit 
Like the tree in the sanctuary of Irnina; 
And the crystal branches 
Rhyming in form and sound, 
Gave forth music, 
And the jewelled fruit sang also 
But with sweet dissonance 
Dissimilar, 

As in shape and colour; 
Even the leaves and blossoms 
Chimed delicately, 
Trembling, 

As though one should shake the Tree of Heaven 
And set the stars ringing against one another. 
Higher and higher rose the marvel 

196 



THE MAGIC TREE 

Till it stood with strong roots 

Knuckling down into the warm earth, 

And lo ! its massive trunk 

Was not of crystal 

But of living wood, 

And its bark clothed with fungi 

Shaped fantastically, 

Charmingly, 

Ludicrously, 

Like little men and women, 

Like imps, leprechauns, pucks, satyrs, 

Things animate, 

Uttering little laughs, 

Little cries of rage, or grief, or pleasure, 

Little songs rapid as the drumming of wood-peckers, 

Little choruses of sharp notes, 

Passionate as the thrumming of hares' feet in Spring! 

Never, never before had such a tree 

Sprung from the soil consecrated to poets ! 

And gazing at it she smiled, 

A secret smile. 

And she said: 

" Now I shall have a house fitted to my spirit ! " 

Whereon she slipped within it, 

After the mysterious fashion of dryads, 

For she knew that to keep it blossoming, 

197 



THE MAGIC TREE 

She must give it her heart's blood for sap, 

And to keep it fruitful, 

She must quicken it with her thought 

Which like a bird diving, 

Had brought forth from the depth of her heart 

The jewel of power, 

That she might create for herself 

By herself, 

Her Tree of Life. 



198 



THE SKY DANCER 

(To Michael Strange) 

YOU, the balancer upon star-beams, 
You, the height intoxicated, 
With forehead sparkled by star-dust 
As by strange pollen from Celestial flowers, — 
You, dancing rapt over infinite abysms, 
On a thread of light 

More subtile than the most subtile thought, — 
You having plucked from Hermes the Caduceus 
To serve as balancing rod 
In your aerial gyrations, 
In your prismy flashings 
On courses forbidden 
To the meek and obedient planets, — 
You, flinging yourself even from that thread of light 
Grasping only the winged rod 
And diving headlong into space 
Hearing the soft hiss of the twin serpents 
Urging you on, on, — 
You, enamoured of the inexpressible, 
In love with the unutterable, 
Frantic for the non-existent, 

199 



THE SKY DANCER 

You, the soul that slipped through God's fingers 
Before He could tame it, 
You pulsing with divine resentment 
That God should be one and you another, 
You heaven-sick for regions that no god has yet ap- 
propriated, 
Thirsting to gulp eternity at a draught 
And pour infinity into the cup of your thought, 
You that would shatter heaven like a crystal bowl 
Could you but grasp it in your little hands 
For the sheer delight of exploring what lies be- 
yond it, 
You, a voice singing in the spatial wilderness of your 

own amazement, 
The winged lute of gods yet to be born, 
You are young, young, and I love you for it! 



200 



HEAVENS 

(To Helen my Kinswoman) 

ACHING with many ignorances, 
With the Supreme Ignorance 
Hardest of all to bear, 
I laid myself down upon my bed 
Longing to win through sleep 
To the Place of Blueness ; 

There are many places in many lands of sleep 
Where I have wandered wondering 
Through all my life of dreaming, — 
Places sweetly or terribly familiar as those of earth, 
But this that I call the Place of Blueness 
Is by far the loveliest and most marvellous. 
Its peace is as the stillness of beings invisible 
Waiting for the Great Disclosure 
That shall bring fulfillment of unimaginable beati- 
tude 
To all that was, or is, or ever shall be. 
Its blueness is more ineffable 
Than skies and flowers of long vanished Aprils 
Remembered by one dying in a desert. 
If there are children angels with blue eyes, 
Such is the blue of its fields of lilies 

201 



HEAVENS 

Blowing lightly even to the mild horizon ; 

Such also is the blue of its blossoming orchards 

And the far hills that float above them. 

If the Maiden Mary indeed wears veils of blue in 

heaven, 
Of that colour is the shining scarf of water 
That girdles this fairest of the lands of dreaming. 
Blue are all the stars in its blue heaven 
And a moon of crystal azure hangs above it 
Like a magic jewel 
Swung from threads of silver. 
There is also the pool that I call " Expectation," 
Rayed with five rays of light like a star-sapphire, — 
The pool beside which I love to rest from living, 
Hoping always that some compassionate angel 
May trouble the rapt waters, 
May descend and interpret for me 
The wonders that lie veiled in the depths of my 

ignorance 
Which has no rays of light wheeling through it 
Like the wonderful pool of expectation. 
And suddenly as I lay longing, 
The Place of Blueness unfolded about me like a 

flower, 
And the starry pool gleamed beside me, 
And in my heart I said with exultation : 
This night will the waters surely be troubled, 



202 



HEAVENS 

This night there will be answering. 

Yet when the waters trembled, 

I saw coming toward me no lordly angel 

But a little maid girt with silvery wings, 

Having buds of blue heaven-flowers in her hair - — 

A little child that I had loved dearly 

When she dwelt on earth. 

Smiling, answering my thought, she called to me : 

" I know! It's about heaven that you want me to 

tell you!" 
And balancing happily on the blue lilies 
In her little frock of spun glass 
And rainbow shoes, 

Furling and unfurling her silvery wings 
Like a celestial butterfly 
She told me of Heaven in these words : 

" Heaven is a place where you can play all the time, 
Where you have new toys every hour that don't break, 
Where you can pick all the flowers and fruit you 

want to 
And nobody says anything cross to you about it, 
Where you can eat heavenly sugar plums by the 

bushel 
And never, never be sick afterwards. 
Heaven is a place where there are no nurses or nurse 

maids 



203 



HEAVENS 

To put soap in your ears and eyes, 

Or to curl your hair on horrid curl-papers 

That are so bumpy you can't sleep at night; 

It's a place where you never have to go to bed 

Or to school, 

And can play even on Sunday 

Because there aren't any Churches or Sermons there, 

And where you don't have to say your prayers, 

Because what's the use? When God is there with 

you, 
Always thinking up nice, new joys for you : 
It's a place where you can wish for any sort of frock 
And there it is on you, without having to be hooked 

or buttoned up, 
And doesn't ever get dirty; 
And where people always kiss you and never slap 

you, 
And where you dance and sing beautifully 
Without having to learn how; 
And where there are no books 
But the grown-up angels tell you fairy tales 
Out of their heads, as many as you want, 
Forever and ever. 
There ! one is calling me now ! 
I'll really have to go 

Because she's the best fairy-tale teller in heaven ! 
Good-by!" 



204 



HEAVENS 

And blowing me a kiss she was gone 7 
The little, radiant one, 
Gone back to heaven. 

" Ah, yes," I thought, " yes, yes, — of course, — 
That is truly heaven — for little Cynthia." 

But my heart was not satisfied, 

And I waited, eagerly hoping that another angel 

More grown-up than little Cynthia 

Would descend to trouble the waters 

And tell me something further of heaven. 

And presently the waters trembled again 

And a young man-angel of whom I had been very 

fond 
When he lived upon earth, 
Came rather shyly towards me, 
Balancing on strong, beautiful wings 
As if a little embarrassed by them, 
And he said to me, nodding back at them, 
" These aren't really there, you know. 
It's only because of your dream that you see them." 
I said " Of course," and made him welcome 
To the Place of Blueness, 
And he remarked presently, 
" This is really a very jolly sort of place you've 

dreamed of." 

205 



HEAVENS 

Then I ventured to ask him what sort of a place 

heaven is, 
And he answered: 
" It's really not at all unlike earth, 
Only much more beautiful, — 
There are trees, flowers, colours, — all that sort of 

thing; 
And awfully interesting people. 
We work a bit, and amuse ourselves a bit. 
Music, of course, — perfectly wonderful music — 
On all sorts of instruments, 
Better than those we had on earth 
But still very much like them, — 
No pianos though." 

He told me a good deal more of such things 

And then I asked him with reverence 

About the Holy Family. 

(He was an ardent Catholic) 

Had he seen the Madonna? 

" Oh, yes ! She is wonderfully kind, 

Amazingly gracious, 

It helps a chap not to miss his own mater so awfully, 

3ur Blessed Lady is so understanding and motherly." 

The Lord Jesus he had seen also, 
But only for a moment. 

" There was such a tremendous crowd about Him, 

206 



HEAVENS 

All more fit to be there than I was," he answered 

humbly, 
As if relieved to change the subject 
He added suddenly, 

" I'm going on with my painting, you know; 
The angels are most awfully obliging — 
Michael is posing for me now in full armour. 
It's simply ripping to paint with heavenly pigments, 
They're like those on earth but better. 
I wish I could explain exactly." 
" And you are happy? " I murmured. 

" Oh, perfectly! I wouldn't come back to earth for 
anything. 

Don't you see ? It's almost exactly like earth 

Only a thousand times better. . . . 

And then one's so much nearer to God. . . . 

As for ceremonial . . . 

You should hear High Mass chanted by the Sera- 
phim ! " 

I was sorry when he had to go back to heaven, 
And yet my heart was not satisfied. 

Two or three more of the angels who had been men 

and women 
Descended to tell me about heaven, 
Yet though they spoke very eloquently, 

207 



HEAVENS 

With none of the heavens that they described 

Was my heart satisfied. 

And there even came down to me my dear black 

" Mammy," 
Though how I knew it was my " Mammy " I cannot 

tell, 
For she did not look in the least as she did on earth, 
But this is all that she said to me about heaven : 
" Honey, heaven is a place where every nigger is 

white!" 

And when she had left me I cried out bitterly: 

" Oh, if some angel who had never been child, or 

man, or woman, 
Would come down and tell me of his heaven ! " 
And immediately the waters shook as with awe, 
And there stood before me one that I could see but 

as light, 
Who spoke to me with a voice that I could hear only 

as music remembered, 
Yet so beautiful he was, 
And so wonderful his speaking, 
That my spirit shook like the waters. 

u How shall I tell you of heaven? " he questioned me, 
" How shall I tell you of the illimitable, 
You that are sealed within your five wits, 
Like a djinn sealed within an iron vessel 
With five imprints of the seal of Solomon? 

208 



HEAVENS 

In heaven there is a colour unknown to earth, 
It is not blue, nor green, nor red, nor yellow, nor vio- 
let, nor orange, 
It's name is called Zervddin, 
And it is more glorious than sunrise and sunset. 
Can you see it through my words? 
Does its name set it before you? 

" In heaven there is a sound unknown on earth, 

It is not a sound of wind, or of water, or of thunder- 
ing, or of fire, — 

Harp-strings and oboes and cymbals, 

Viols and lutes, — children's voices and the songs of 
birds 

Are as silence compared with it, 

Its name is called Ldreth, 

And it is sweeter than the voice of love sounding 
back across death. 

Can you hear it through my words ? 

Does its name set it within the porches of your ears ? 

" In heaven there is a form, 

And upon earth exists not even the shadow of the 

illusion of its likeness, 
Yet is it more marvellous a million fold 
Than the imagining of poets creating through 

thought 
The image of the Supernal. 

209 



HEAVENS 

Its name is called Valtoran, 

And he who hath seen it hath seen behind the sev- 
enth veil 
Of the Holy of Holies which is Mystery. 
Can you behold it through my words? 
Does its name set it before you? 
Hear and remember 

Throughout that other dream which is life : 
As many as are the cups 
They shall be filled, 
Whether cups on mosses of earth 
Or the cup of space, 
Or the great and little cups of souls, 
All shall be filled. 

" As for the heaven which men imagine with their 
five wits, 

How should it satisfy them when their wits shall be 
myriad? 

I say to you as one said of old, being truly enlight- 
ened: 

The heaven imagined of men while yet they are men, 

Is as a little hut on the mountain side of Reality." 



210 



BOX HEDGES 

Castle Hill y Virginia 

HEDGES of Box, 
Magical, severe, serene, 
Full of promises, 
Promising strange fulfilments, , 
Welcoming their own, — 
Swaying with somber witchery, 
With threatening even 
For intruders, for inquisitive strangers; 
Tirelessly watching, 
Waiting, 

Sentinels of centuries, 

Content with the wisdom of root and leaf, 
With the mystic bondage of earth, — 
Themselves mystical, magical, secret, 
Possessed of unknown powers and beatitudes. . . 

I came home to you, marvellous ones, 
From the obsessed uproar of the city, 
From the furious to-and-fro 

Of beings herded and goaded by petulant desires; 
I came back to you on an evening of April, 
Climbing the wild hill a-foot 

211 



BOX HEDGES 

That I might greet you alone, in simplicity, — 
And you towered above me like the beauty of Dark- 

ness, 
You lifted against the crocus-bright air 
Your superb gloom 
In a barrier of strong enchantment 
Behind which I should rediscover reality; 
Your bitter-sweet fragrance upon me 
Was as a potent charm 
Sealing my wits of every day, 
Unsealing others long forgotten . . 
I gathered your great branches in my arms 
Leaning my breast against yours, 
And you held me up like a lover . . . 

The old house benign and wistful, 

Is glad of my presence, 

So long it has stood companionless 

Guarded only by the huge box hedges : — 

I have sent the old negress away 

To sleep in her cottage 

Beyond the hedges . . . 

My candle under its antique, crystal shade 
Burns quietly, 

The long, white hall flowers with shadows, 
White acacia blossoms slide over the glassy floor 
Stirred by the breathing of night; 

212 



BOX HEDGES 

Outside, between the Doric columns 
The air hangs a cloak of purple feathers 
Spotted with silver . . . 
The silence rings like Benares brass . . . 
Rings, rings. . . . 

I am called by something more potent than a 

voice, — 
By a bitter-sweet fragrance, 
Pungent, 

Imperially insistent . . . 
My heart is being tuned high, high, 
By something beyond my will, 
My heart-strings are stretched fine as gossamer . . . 

What is it that I shall see within your circling walls, 

If I go forth to you, 

Hedges of box, 

Hedges of Magic? 

Will a milk-white Unicorn come to drink 

From the pool where you mirror your magnificence ? 

I should love to see a moon-coloured Unicorn 

With silver hoofs 

And spiked forhead-horn of silver 

Cantering delicately along your curved ramparts ! 

Cantering delicately it came, 

More beautiful and clear-cut than a naked nymph 

213 



BOX HEDGES 

Cameoed against the flying buttresses of box; 

About its neck, satiny hard and pale as feldspar, 

One had hung a garland of blue roses 

And opals of fire-fly green, 

Its forehead-horn shone like Venetian glass whorled 

with silver, 
Its hoofs were of silvered crystal. 
As it drank from the cloud paved-pool 
Its milky lustre blended with the clouds 
And its necklace of azure roses and gold-green opals 
With the sky and stars. . . . 

I would have been content to stroke the heraldic per- 
fection of its neck, 

But a woman darted suddenly between us 

And swung herself upon its back; 

She struck it lightly with the looped garland of 
roses, 

Turning to smile at me 

As they sped off together, 

And I saw that she was myself 

As I had been at one and twenty. 

Evoe! 

Hedges of box, 
Hedges of Magic. 
Evoe ! Evoe ! 

Behind your barrier of glad enchantment 
I have rediscovered reality. 

214 



AUTUMN AND WINTER 



AUTUMN HAUNTING 

A RED cloak blowing, blowing, — 
Swift and thin as the shadow of a racing 
cloud, 
Curving out as with passion, 
Blinding the heavens in its web of scarlet, — 
Who is it, what is it that runs sky-high at evening 
Vaulting from star to star 
In a clear vermilion cloak 
Blowing mysteriously, enticingly? 

A cloak of elusive scarlet, 

Paling, deepening, vanishing and reappearing elf- 

ishly, 
Beyond patterns of maroon and orange leaves, 
Staining the gauzy violet of shadows 
As with cinnebar, 
Whipping into the sunshine 
Its resonant red 

Like the twang of a loosed bow-string; — 
Something is fleeing on windy tiptoe 
Along the crystal threshold of the October day, 
In a vermilion cloak 
Blowing elfishly, tauntingly. 

217 



AUTUMN HAUNTING 

A cloak of translucent, gold-washed crimson, 

Shining, throbbing like an enchanted sail, 

Pours its folds through the dusk of my dreams, 

Waking me with its joyous redness, 

Then having woken me, 

Flicks over my ceiling in the fire-light 

And out across the sill of my open window, 

To pass blowing, blowing, with the huge wind 

Down the aisles of the Autumn night 

In wild, exultant curves 

As of visible laughter. 

Who is it, what is it that runs sky-high at evening 

Vaulting from star to star, 

That flees on windy tiptoe 

Along the crystal threshold of the October day 

In a clear vermilion cloak 

Blowing mysteriously, enticingly, tauntingly? 



218 



SEPTEMBER SHADOWS 

THE long, clear shadows across the lawn 
Pointing toward evening, toward sleeping, 
Are patterns for- quiet resting. 

Across the gold-green grasses the clear shadows 

Are like plaintive memories 

Across sunlit joys long ago mown 

By the scythe that never needs whetting, 

That is ever sharp. 

In long, white-nights of remembering 

The long shadows 

Seem still to be near me 

Like folded wings of dreaming. 

If in heaven there shall be no shadows, 
I shall wander through the unchanging light 
Of wakefulness everlasting, 
With weary nostalgia, 
Remembering the gold-green grasses 
Of earth at sunset, 

And the long, clear shadows across them, 
Pointing toward evening, toward sleeping, 
Like patterns for quiet resting. 

219 



IN VIRGINIA, THE FIFTH OF OCTOBER 

OCTOBER is drowsing still 
Under a coverlet of mauve -blue haze ; 
From half-open eyes 
Misted with sleep, 
He gazes indolently, 

Hesitating to put on his chilly glass sandals 
And cap of shell-ice 
Winged with flamingo feathers. 
His cloak of gilt cobwebs 
Is folded under him; 
On the brown of his lazy limbs 
The little chicory flowers cast tickling shadows, 
The shadow of a planing hawk 
Strokes him from head to heels, 
Yet he drowses on, 
Supine, stirless. 

Wake! Wake, October! 

We long to see your gilded cloak 

Flying between us and the downy turquoise of 

the sky, 
We long to see you change the sky to violet 

crystal, 

220 



IN VIRGINIA, THE FIFTH OF OCTOBER 

And throw huge silver balloons against it 
From your purse of winds, 
For the apple gathering is over, 
The apple trees stand somberly, 
In dark green robes 

Stripped of their jade and carnelian orna- 
ments — 
You cannot harm them now 
Though you turn your purse of winds 
Lining outward. 

Wake! Wake, October! 

While you are dozing 

April has stolen back a-tiptoe; 

She is playing lovely pranks on you, 

On your fields and forests; 

The horse-chestnuts glisten with sticky buds 

Holding little five-fingered leaves 

Packed like jewels in white cotton, 

Some of the upper branches are even in full 

blossom. 
The lilac under my window 
Flaunts a purple plume; 
Near my door step 
She has set a dandelion 
And three butter-cups. 

Wake ! Wake ! 
Snatch up your amber palette 
221 



IN VIRGINIA, THE FIFTH OF OCTOBER 

And your brushes of hoar-frost. 

You had only painted a bough here and there 

When you fell a-napping, — 

Slug-a-bed ! 

Now April is plucking off your beautiful painted 

leaves 
Of yellow and scarlet, 
And setting in their places 
New leaves green as her own eyes. 
She has waked the locust 
And set him chirring again; 
The birds, deceived by her, 
Trill their mating-calls. 

We shall have the year exquisitely topsy-turvy 
If you do not waken at once, 
October! 



222 



DECEMBER EVENING 

THE black, iced sail of night thrums, thrums . 
But the wind is weakening, 
Now it falls away, 

Drifting slowly down upon the Southern waste : 
In the dark glass of my window 
I see my hearth fire leaping among snowy zig-zags 
Of winter boughs. 
Oh, memories of youth, 
Thus you flame among the snows of age 
Without melting them ! 



223 



AUTUMN LONELINESS 

ONE gray cricket is fluting, 
One only, 
In the brown November field :. 
Clear little lonely voice, 
You are like the voice in the heart 
When age has come, 
And the Beloved has gone forever. 



224 



REVELATION 

MADE humble through beauty 
I knelt upon the autumn grass 
Looking into the fair face of a rose . . . 
And suddenly its loveliness became to me 
As the heavens at dawn; 
Its golden heart half hidden by petals 
Was not less marvellous and overwhelming 
Than the morning star seen through petals of sun- 

lit cloud: 
Thus gazing upon it 

My soul was drenched with the dew of wisdom 
And I knew that in eternity 
Great and small are one, 
And that the Angel of a rose 
Can prevent hell 
Without a sword of flame. 



225 



JANUARY NIGHT 

SILVER moth-dust of moonshine 
Sifting on far horizons. 
Quickgold of winter stars 
Through fountains of iron blue branches, 
Pearl-blue glimmer of snow . . . 
Sheer above me Orion 
Superbly balancing, 
Belted with green-spiked jewels 
Aiming his violet diamond bolts at Nirvana. 
Stillness . . . 

Stillness utter, impassioned, 

As of a Mystic rapt and swooning for long-drawn 
ecstasy. 

Suddenly — 

Frrt — frrt — frrt of a hare's pads 

Crushing the gauze of ice : — 

In the room behind me 

Frrt — frrt — frrt of my red-heart cedar fire 

" Treading snow." 



226 



EXPERIENCE 

{Snow in Autumn) 

ROSE of November, 
It was only yesterday that I saw you quivering 
Warm with sunshine 
Under the last, wild honey bee; — 
Now to your freezing heart 
Cling spectral snow-moths. 
Yet you should die proudly, 
Rose of November, 

For you have known more than all the roses of June 
Through immemorial summers. 



227 



AUTUMN LONGING 

{To the author of " The Flowery Scroll") 

THE sculptural masses of box-shrubs crowding 
close together, 
Are like a carving in night-green jade 
After curdled mountains 
In a picture by Chao Meng-Fo ; 
Against their superb stolidity 
Flights of yellow acacia leaves flit glittering 
Borne on the south-west wind . . . 

golden acacia leaves, 

Could I but follow you to your ultimate destination 

As the pilgrim of olden time 

Followed the blowing petals of peach-blossoms, 

1 am convinced that also like him 

I should discover a garden of clear delights 
Beyond a stream of celestial ensorcelment. 



228 



LEAVES 

THROUGH the leaves of my Tulip tree, 
Through the dim, green leaves 
Faded by Summer, 
Glistens the sky of Autumn; 
My thoughts like the leaves are dim, 
Faded by memories more passionate 
Than the burning of Summer. 
Frost will brighten the faded leaves, 
But my thoughts will not glow again 
Under the frosty touch of age : 
Only when Death draws near, 
Ardent and luminous, 
Will they quicken, — 

Death that I imagine to be like April sunrise 
Through leaves. 



229 



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